LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

SliejLl'.,.III:j2-. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



MAY 2a 1884 



HENRY IRVING'S 



IMPRESSIONS or AMEHICA 



NARBATED IN A SEllIES OF 



8KETCHE8, CHRONICLES, AND 
CONVERSA TIONS 



BY 



JOSEPH HATTON 



AUTHOR OF 
'CLYTIE," "cruel LONDON," "THREE RECRUITS," "TO-DAY IN AMERICA," ETC. 




BOSTON 

JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY 

1S84 



1^ 



Copyright, 1884 
James R. Osgood and CompanV 



All rights reserved 



^■■i" 



Tress of Rockwell and Churchill, 39 Arch St. 



TO THE AMEEICAN PUBLIC. 



This book is the outcome of a desire to clironicle, 
in a lasting form, some of the events of a tour which 
your kindness has made a delight to Ellen Terry 
and myself. Before leaving London I ventured upon 
a prophecy that in journeying to America we were 
going amongst friends. That prophecy has been 
fulfilled. 

In the history of the stage the Lyceum Company is 
the first complete organization which has crossed the 
Atlantic with the entire equipment of a theatre. 

As the tour is, I believe, unique, so also is this 
record of it ; and I particularly desire to emphasize 
a fact concerning its authorship. I am, myself, 
only responsible for my share in the conversations 
and dialogues that are set down, everything else 
being the work of my friend, Joseph Hatton, well 
known to you as the author of "To-day in 



A 



merica. 



\y PREFACE. 

I can but trust that I have not erred in express- 
ing, for publication, some passing thoughts about a 
country which has excited my profound admiration, 
and which has the highest claims upon my gratitude. 

HENRY IRYING. 

New York, April 30, 1884. 



OOI^TEISTTS. 



I.— AT HOME. 

Talking of America — Warned against the Interviewer — 
" Travellers' Tales"— Good-byto London— International 
Gossip — A Mythical Palace on the Thames — Reports 
from "A Little English Friend " — The Grange— A Graf- 
ton Street Interior — Souvenirs and Portraits — An Actor 
on His Audiences — Hamlet at the Lyceum — Critics and 
Public Opinion — The Final Verdict — First Nights — 
Anonymous Letters — Notable Gifts — The Character of 
Louis XL — " A Poor Mother who had Lost Her Son " — 
Scene Calls — Stories of a " Dresser "— Behind the 
IScenes — " Waking Up " — The Original Beefsteak Club 
Room — Host and Guests 



II.— NEW YORK. 

Going to Meet the " Britannic " — The "Blackbird " — Skirm- 
ishers of the American Press — The London "Stand- 
ard's" Message to New York, Boston, and Chicago — 
" Working " America — " Reportorial " Experiences — 
Daylight ofE Staten Island — At Quarantine under the 
Stars and Stripes — " God Save the Queen ! " and " Hail 
to the Chief ! " — Received and "Interviewed " — " Portia 
on a Trip from the Venetian Seas " — What the Report- 
ers Think and what Irving Says —The Necessity of Ap- 
plause — An Anecdote of Forrest — Mr. Vanderbilt and 
the Mirror — Miss Terry and the Reporters — " Tell them 
I never loved home so well as now " — Landed and Wel- 
comed— Scenes on the Quay — At the Brevoort . , 39 



vi CONTENTS. 

III. — FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 

PAGE 

Union Square, New York — An Enterprising Chronicler — 
The Lambs — The Newspapers and the New-comers — 
"Art must Advance with the Times" — "Romeo and 
Juliet " at the Lyceum — ' ' Character Parts " — No Real 
Tradition of Shakespearian Acting — " Mannerisms " — 
The Stage as an Educator — Lafayette Place — A Nota- 
ble Little Dinner — The Great American Bird, " Not the 
Eagle, but the Duck" — A Question of "Appropriate 
Music " — Speculators in Tickets and their Enormous 
Profits — Middlemen, the Star Theatre, and the Play- 
going Public . 66 



IV. —AT THE LOTOS CLUB. 

The Savage Club of America — Thackeray and Lord Hough- 
ton — A Great Banquet — Mr. Whitelaw Reid on Irving 
and the Actor's Calling — "Welcome to a Country where 
he may find not Unworthy Brethren " — An Answer to the 
Warnings of the English Traveller of Chapter I. — 
"Shakespeare's Charles the First" — A Night of Wit 
and Humor — Cliauncey M. Dcpew on Theatrical Evolu- 
tion — The Knighting of Sullivan — The Delineator of 
Romance visiting the Home of America's Creator of 
Romance — After-dinner Stories — Conspiring against 
the Peace of a Harmless Scotchman — A Pleasant Jest . 84 



V. —THE NIGHT BEFORE THE PLAY. 

The Vividness of First Impressions — New York Hotels — 
On the Elevated Road with "Charlie" — Trotting 
Horses — Audiences on both Sides of the Atlantic — "A 
Man knows best what he can do" — "Americanisms," 
so called — A Satirical Sketch, entitled "Bitten by a 
Dog " — Louis and the Duke of Stratford-on-Avon — 
Macready and the Forrest Riots 108 



CONTENTS. vii 



VI. — THE BELLS. 

PAGE 

A Stormy Night in New York — Ticket-Speculators at Work 
— A First-night Audience — Matliias received with En- 
thusiasm — Behind the Scenes — Lighting the Stage — 
Returning Thanks — Criticism of the Crowd — John 
Gilbert's Opinion — Actor and Audience — Enghsh Play- 
goers and Londoners — Laughter and Applause — An 
Artistic Triumph 123 



VIL — ''RED LETTER DAYS." 

Miss Ellen Terry's Eirst Appearance in New York — The 
Press on Charles and the Queen — A Professional Mat- 
inee — An Audience of Actors to See Louis XI. — How 
they Impressed the Actor, and what they Thought of 
Him — A Visit to Henry Ward Beecher — At Church 
and at Home — Mrs. Beecher and Miss Terry — 
Reminiscences — Studies of Death, Physiological and 
Idealistic — Louis' Death and Hamlet's — A Strange 
Story 140 



VIII. — A QUIET EVENING. 

A First Visit behind the Scenes — Cooper and Kean — The 
University Club — A very Notable Dinner — Chief Jus- 
tice Davis and Lord Chief Justice Coleridge — A Menu 
worth Discussing — Terrapin and Canvas-Back Duck 

— "A Little Family Party" — Florence's Romance — 
Among the Lambs — The Fate of a Manuscript Speech 

— A Story of John Kemble — Words of Welcome — 
Last Night of the New York Engagement — Au Ee- 
voir ! 165 



viii CONTENTS. 

IX. —AT PHILADELPHIA AND "IN CLOVER." 

PAGE 

Rivalries of American Cities — Boston and Philadelphia — 
The Real and the Picturesque — Miss Terry's Portia — 
"Three Kinds of Criticism" — First Appearance as 
Hamlet — Miss Terry's Ophelia — Journalism and the 
Stage — Critics, Past and Present — Philadelphia and 
English Cities — A New Style of Newspaper — Bogus 
Reports and Interviews ; an Example of Them — The 
Clover Club — A Letter from an Eminent American Tra- 
gedian — Presented with Forrest's Watch — The Mac- 
ready Trouble — Hamlet, and an Invitation from Guest 
to Hosts 187 



X. — BOSTON AND SHYLOCK. 

Rural Scenes on Both Sitles of the Atlantic — First Impres- 
sions of Railway Travel — The Cars — One of the 
Largest Theatres in America — The Drama in Boston — 
Early Struggles to represent Plays in Public — "Moral 
Lectures" — Boston Criticisms — Shylock, Portia, Ham- 
let, and Ophelia — Different Readings of Shylock — 
Dressing-Room Criticism — Shylock considered — A 
Reminiscence of Tunis — How Shakespeare should be 
interpreted on the Stage — Two Methods illustrated — 
Shylock before the Court of Venice — How Actors 
should be judged 214 



XL— A CITY OF SLEIGHS. 

Snow and Sleigh Bells — " Brooks of ShetSeld " —In the 
Boston Suburbs — Smokeless Coal — At the Somerset 
Club — Miss Ellen Terry and the Papyrus — A Ladies' 
Night — Club Literature — Carious Minutes — " Greeting 
to Ellen Terry"— St. Botolph— Oliver Wendell Holmes 
and Charles the First — "Good-byand a Merry Christ- 
mas "..... 237 



CONTENTS. ix 



XII. — LOOKING FORWARD TO CHRISTMAS. 

PAGE 

Interviewing in England and America — Rehearsing Richard 

and Lady Ann — Reminiscences of a Christmas Dinner 

A Homely Feast — Joe Robins and Guy Fawkes — He 
would be an Actor — The Luxury of Warmth — " One 
Touch of Nature " . 254 



XIII. —A WILD RAILWAY JOURNEY. 

A Great American Railway Station — Platforms and Waiting- 
Rooms — A Queer Night — " Snow is as Bad as Fog " — 
A Farmer who Suggests Mathias in "The Bells" — A 
Romance of .the Hudson — Looking for the " Maryland " 
and Finding "The Danites " — Fighting a Snow-storm — 
" A Ministering Angel " — The Publicity of Private Cars 
— Mysterious Proceedings — Strange Lights — Snowed 
up — Digging out the Railway Points — A Good Samari- 
tan Locomotive — Trains Ahead of Us, Trains Behind 
Us — Railway Lights and Bells — ' ' What's Going On ? " 264 



XIV. — CHRISTMAS, AND AN INCIDENT BY 
THE WAY. 

AX Baltimore — Street Scenes — Christmas Wares — Pretty 
Women in "Rubber Cloaks" — Contrasts — Street 
Hawkers — Southern Blondes — Furs and Diamonds — 
Rehearsing under Difficulties — Blacks and Whites — 
Negro Philosophy — Honest Work — " The Best Com- 
pany on its Legs I have ever seen " — Our Christmas Sup- 
per — " Absent Friends " — Pictures in the Fire and After- 
wards — An Intercepted Contribution to Magazine Litera- 
ture — Correcting a Falsehood — Honesty and Fair 
i*lay 285 



CONTENTS. 
XV. —FROM BROOIvLYN TO CHICAGO. 

PAGE 

Fussy " — The Brooklyn Ferry — Crossing the North 
River — A Picturesque Crowd — Brooklyn Bridge at 
Night — "Warned against Chicago — Conservatism of 
American Critics — Dangers of the Road — Railway- 
Train Bandits — An Early Interviewer — A Reporter's 
Story — Life on a Private Car — Miss Terry and her 
"Luck" — American Women 305 



XVL— THE PRAIRIE CITY. 

First Impressions of Chicago — A Bitter Wiitter — Great 
Storms — Thirty Degrees below Zero — On the Shores 
of Lake Michigan — Street Architecture — Pullman City 

— Western Journalism — Chicago Criticism — Notable 
Entertainments — At the Press Club — The Club Life 
of America — What America has done — Unfair Com- 
parisons between the Great New World and the Older 
Civilizations of Europe — Mistaking Notoriety for Fame 

— A Speech of Thanks — Facts, Figures, and Tests of 
Popularity, Past and to Come 321 



XVIL — ST. LOUIS, CINCINNATI, INDIANAPOLIS, 
COLUMBUS. 

Sunshine and Snow — Wintry Landscapes — Fire and Frost 
— Picturesque St. Louis — "The Elks" — A Notable 
Reception — "Dime Shows" — Under-studies — Ger- 
many in America — "On the Ohio" — Printing under 
Difficulties — "Baggage-smashing" — Handsome Ne- 
groes and Sunday Papers — The Wonders of Chicago . 344 



CONTENTS. xi 

XVIII. — CHIEFLY CONCERNING A HOLIDAY 
AT NIAGARA. 

PAGE 

The Return Visit to Chicago — Welcomed Back again — 
Earewell Speech — Niagara in the Winter — A Sensation 
at the Hotel — Requisitioning adjacent Towns for Chickens 
and Turkeys — Ira Aldridge and a Colored Dramatic Club 
— A Blizzard from the North-west — The Scene of 
Webb's Death — "A great Stage-manager, Nature" — 
Life and Death of ''The Hermit of Niagara" — A Fatal 
Picnic — The Lyceum Company at Dinner — Mr. Howe 
Proposes a Toast — Terriss meets with an Accident that 
recalls a Romantic Tragedy ...... 363 



XIX.— FROM TORONTO TO BOSTON. 

Lake Ontario — Canadian Pastimes — Tobogganing — On an 
Ice Slide — "Shooting Niagara and After" — Toronto 
Students — Dressing for the Theatre — "God Save the 
Queen " — Incidents of Travel — Locomotive Vagaries — 
Stopping the Train — " Fined One Hundred Dollars " — 
The Hotels and the Poor — Tenement Houses — The 
Stage and the Pulpit — Actors, Past and Present — The 
Stage and the Bar-room — The Second Visit to Boston — 
Enormous Receipts — A Glance at the Financial Results 
of the Tour ......... 382 



XX. — WASHINGTON, NEW ENGLAND, AND 
SOME "RETURN VISITS." 

From Rail to River — Once More on Board the " Maryland" 

— Recollections of President Arthur — At the White 
House — Washington Society — An Apt Shakespearian 
Quotation — Distinguished People — " Hamlet " — A 
Council of War — Making Out the Route of a 'Nc^v Tour 

— A Week in New England Cities — Brooklyn and Phila- 
delphia Revisited 399 



xii CONTENTS. 

XXI. — "BY TIIE WAY." 

PAGl 

** My Name is Mulldoon, I live in the Twenty-fourth "Ward" 
— Protective Duties and the Fine Arts — •' The General 
Muster " — A Message from Kansas City — American 
Cabmen — Alarming Notices in Hotels — The Chicago 
Fire Service — What a Fire Patrol can Do in a few- 
Seconds — Marshalling the Fire Brigades — William 
Winter — " Office Rules " — The Reform Club and PoK- 
tics — Enterprising Reporters — International Satire — 
How a Man of "Simple and Regular Habits " Livens — 
Secretaries in Waiting — The Bisbee Murders — " Hunted 
Down " — Outside Civilization — " The Bazoo " — The 
Story of a Failure — A Texan Tragedy — Shooting in a 
Theatre — Evolutions of Towns 42c 



XXIL — "THE LONGEST JOURNEY COMES TO 
AN END." 

" Our Closing Month in New York" — Lent — At Rehearsal 
— Finishing Touches — Behind the Scenes at the Lyceum 
and the Star — The Story of the Production of " Much 
Ado " in New .York — Scenery and Properties on the 
Tour — Tone — Surprise for Agents in Advance — In- 
teresting Technicalities — An Incident of the Mounting of 
"Much Ado" — The Tomb Scene — A Great Achieve- 
ment—The End 463 



IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



AT HOME. 



Talking of America — Warned against the Intel-viewer — " Travellers' 
Talcs" — Good by to London — International Gossip — A Mythical 
Palace on the Thames — Reports from " A Little English Friend " 
— The Grange — A Graf ton-Street Interior — Souvenirs and Por- 
traits — An Actor on His Audiences — Ilanilct at the Lyceum — 
Critics and Public Opinion — The Final Verdict — First Nights — 
Anonymous Letters — Notable Gifts — The Character of Louis XL — 
"A Poor IN [other who had Lost Her Son" — Scene Calls — Stories 
of a " Dresser " — Behind the Scenes — " Waking Up " — The Original 
Beefsteak Club Room — Host and Guests. 



"And I don't think he believes a word I have said," 
was Mr. John T. Kaymond's own commentary upon a 
series of romances of "the wild West" which he had 
related to Mr. Henry Irving ^ with an intensity that 
was worthy of Col. Sellers himself. 

1 John Henry Brodripp Irving was born at Keinton, near Glastonbuiy 
(the scene of the tradition of the sacred thorn), February 6, 1838. In 
1849 his father sent him to the private school of Dr. Pinches, in George 
Yard, Lombard street, London. During his school days he evinced a taste 
for dramatic poetry. He was placed in the office of an East India 
house, and might, had he liked his occupation, have become a prosperous 
merchant; l)ut his ambition gravitated towards the stage. He made per- 
sonal sacrifices in many ways to educate himself in the direction of his 
taste for dramatic work. He read plays, studied the theatre and dramatic 
literature, became an expert fencer, practised elocution with~ a famous 



2 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

The comedian's reminiscences were graphic narra- 
tives of theatrical and frontier life, with six-shooters 
and bowie-knives in them, and narrow escapes enough 
to have made the fortunes of what the Americans call a 
ten-cent novel. 

"Oh, yes, I believe it is the duty of the door-keeper at 
a Western theatre to collect the weapons of the audi- 
ence before admitting the people to the house ; that 
what we call the cloak-room in London, you might call 
the armory out West ; and that the bowie-knife of a 
Texan critic never weighs less than fourteen pounds. 
But I am not going as far as Texas, though one might 
do worse if one were merely crossing the Atlantic in 
search of adventures." 



actor, and in 1855 left London and obtained an engagement in a pro- 
vincial theatre. An earnest student always, he fought his way through 
a world of troubles, and made his first success at the St. James Theatre, 
London, October 6, 1866, as Doricourt in "The Belle's Stratagem." 
He afterwards played in eccentric comedy with Toole; made a hit in 
melodrama at the now defunct Queen's Theatre; then went to Paris 
with Sothern, and played Abel Murcot in " Our American Cousin." 
Eeturning to London, he filled important engagements at the Gaiety and 
Vaudeville Theatres. His appearance at the Lyceum Theati-e, Lon- 
don, followed. Here, after his friend, Manager Bateman, had staked and 
lost everything on " Fanchette," Mr. Irving advised the production of 
" The Bells," which restored the fortunes of the house, and was the 
beginning of a scries of artistic and financial successes, both for the 
management and the leading actor. On the death of Mr. Bateman, and 
the withdrawal of his widow from the lesseeship of the theatre, ISIr. Irving 
entered upon management. One day I hope to tell the stoiy of 
his life and adventures. Placidly as the river of his fortunes may 
seem to have flowed since he became lessee of the Lyceum, in October, 
1878, the incidents of his early struggles are not more interesting than his' 
managerial battles and victories in these latter days of London. Pending 
a more complete biography, the sketch entitled " Heniy Irving," by Austin 
Brereton, may be consulted with advantage; its data arc well founded, 
and its figures are correct. 



AT HOME. 3 

America was at tliis time a far-off country, about 
which travellers told Irving strange stories. I recall 
many a pleasant evening in the Beefsteak Club room, 
of the Lyceum Theatre, when famous citizens of the 
United States, actors more particularly, have sat at his 
round table, and smoked the Havannah of peace and 
pleasant memories : Booth, Barrett, Boucicault, Mc- 
Cullough, Kaymond, Florence, and others of their craft ; 
Generals Horace Porter, Fairchild, Merritt, Mr. Sam. 
Ward, Mr. Eufus Hatch, Mr. James R. Osgood, Mr. 
Hurlbert, Mr. Crawford, Col. Buck, Mr. Dan Dough- 
erty, and many others. They all promised him a 
kindly reception and a great success. 

"I question, however," said an English guest, taking 
the other side, as Englishmen love to do, if only for the 
sake of argument, " if America will quite care for the 
naturalness of your effects, the neutral tones of some 
of your stage pictures, the peaceful character, if I may 
so style it, of your representations. They like breadth 
and color and show ; they are accustomed to the mar- 
vellous and the gigantic in nature ; they expect on the 
stage some sort of interpretation of these things, — great 
rivers, lofty mountains, and the startling colors of their 
fall tints. Your gentle meads of Hampton, the poetic 
grace of " Charles the First," the simplicity of your 
loveliest sets, and the quiet dignity of your Shylock, 
will, I fear, seem tame to them." 

"Human nature, I fancy," Irving responded, "is the 
same all the world over, and I have played to many 
Americans in this very theatre. You will say, per- 
haps, that they will accept here in London what they 



4 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

would not care for on the other side of the Atlantic. 
You would say we are an old country, with fairly 
settled tastes in art, a calm atmosphere, a cultivated 
knowledge ; and that possibly what we, in our nar- 
rower ways, regard as a subtilty of art, they may 
not see. That may be so, though some of their hu- 
mor is subtle enough, and the best of it leaves a great 
deal to the imagination. I know many persons, Amer- 
ican and English, have talked to me in your strain ; 
yet I never saw quieter or more delicate acting than 
in elefFcrson's Rip Van Winkle. As I said before, 
human nature is ever the same : it loves and hates, it 
quarrels and murders, it honors valor, sympathizes 
with the unfortunate, and delights in seeing human 
passions delineated on the stage. Moreover, are not 
the Americans, after all, our own flesh and blood? I 
never think of them in the sense of foreigners, as one 
does of the French and Germans, and the other Euro- 
pean nations who do not speak our language ; and I 
have yet to learn that there is any difference between 
us so marked that the jangle of "The Bells," shall 
not stir their imagination as much as the sorrows of 
Charles shall move their hearts, and the story of 
Louis heighten their pulses. We shall see. I can- 
not exactly say that my soul's in arms and eager for 
the fray, but I have no doubt about the result. That 
love of breadth, of largeness, of color, you talk of, 
should go hand in hand with a catholic taste, devoid 
of littleness and combined with a liberal criticism that 
is not always looking for spots on the sun." 

"You are not nervous, then, as to your reception?" 



AT HOME. 5 

"No, I am sure it will be kindly; and, for their 
criticism, I think it will be just. There is the same 
honesty of purpose and intention in American as in 
English criticism, and, above all, there is the great 
play-going public, which is very much the same frank, 
generous, candid audience all over the world." 

" But there is the American interviewer ! You have 
not yet encountered that interesting individual." 

" Oh, yes, I have." 

"Has he been here, then?" 

"Yes ; not in his war-paint, nor with his six-shooter 
and bowie-knife, as he goes about in Raymond's Texan 
country, yet an interviewer still." 

" And you found him not disagreeable ? " asked the 
travelled guest. 

"I found him well informed and quite a pleasant 
fellow." 

"Ah, but he was here under your own control, 
probably smoking a cigar in your own room. Wait 
until he boards the steamer off New York. Then you 
will see the sort of person he is, with his string of ques- 
tions more personal than the fire of an Old Bailey 
lawyer at a hostile witness under cross-examination. 
The Inquisition of old is not in the race with these gen- 
tlemen, except that the law, even in America, does not 
allow them to put you to physical torture, though they 
make up for that check upon their liberty by the mental 
pain they can inflict upon you. Apart from the inter- 
viewers proper, I have known reporters to disguise 
themselves as waiters, that they may pry into your 
secrets and report upon your most trivial actions." 



6 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

"You have evidently suffered," said Irving. 

"No, not I; but I have known those who have. 
Nothing is sacred from the prying eyes and unscru- 
pulous pens of these men. 'You smile, old friend,' to 
quote your 'Louis the Eleventh,' but I am not exag- 
gerating nor setting down aught in malice. You will 
see ! The interviewers wdll turn you inside out." 

" You don't say so ! Well, that will be a new sen- 
sation, at all events," answered Irving ; and, when our 
friend had left, he remarked, "I wonder if Americans, 
when they visit this country, go home and exaggerate 
our peculiarities as much as some of our own coun- 
trymen, after a first trip across the Atlantic, evidently 
exaggerate theirs." 

" There are many travellers who, in relating their 
experiences, think it necessary to accentuate them 
with exao^crerated color : and then we have to make 
allowances for each man's individuality." 

"How much certain of our critical friends make of 
that same ' individuality,' by the way, when they choose 
to call it ' mannerism ' ! The interviewers , I suppose , will 
have a good deal to say on that subject." 

" English papers and American correspondents have 
given them plenty of points for personal criticism." 

"That is true. They will be clever if they can 
find anything new to say in that direction. Well, I 
don't think it is courage, and I know it is not vanity ; 
yet I feel quite happy about this American tour." 

A week or two later and Irving spoke the sentiments 
of his heart upon this subject, at the farewell banquet 



AT HOME. 7 

given to him by artistic, literary, legal, social, and 
journalistic London, under the presidency of Lord 
Chief Justice Coleridge ; and it will be fitting, I trust, 
to close these preliminary paragraphs with his charac- 
teristic and touching good-by ; — 

"My Lord Chief Justice, my lords and gentle- 
men, — I cannot conceive a greater honor entering 
into the life of any man than the honor you have paid 
me by assembling here to-night. To look around this 
room and scan the faces of my distinguished hosts 
would stir to its depths a colder nature than mine. It 
is not in my power, my lords and gentlemen, to thank 
you for the compliment you have to-night paid me. 

" * The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel.' 

"Never before have I so strongly felt the magic 
of those words ; but you will remember it is also 
said, in the same sentence, ^ Give thy thoughts no 
tongue.' (Laughter.) And gladly, had it been 
possible, would I have obeyed that wise injunction 
to-night. (Kenewed laughter.) The actor is pro- 
foundly influenced by precedent, and I cannot forget 
that many of my predecessors have been nerved by 
farewell banquets for the honor which awaited them 
on the other side of the Atlantic ; but this occasion 
I regard as much more than a compliment to myself, 
— I regard it as a tribute to the art which I am 
proud to serve — (Cheers), — and I believe that feeling 
will be shared by the profession to which you have 



8 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

assembled to do honor. (Cheers.) The time has long 
gone by when there was any need to apologize for the 
actor's calling. (Hear! Hear!) The w^orld can no 
more exist without the drama than it can without its 
sister art, — music. The stage gives the readiest re- 
sponse to the demand of human nature to be trans- 
ported out of itself into the realms of the ideal, — not 
that all our ideas on the stage are realized ; none but 
the artist knows how immeasurably he may fall short of 
his aim or his conception ; but to have an ideal in art, 
and to strive through one's life to embody it, may be a 
passion to the actor, as it may be to the poet. (Cheers.) 
Your lordship has spoken most eloquently of my career. 
Possessed of a generous mind and a highly judicial 
faculty, your lordship has been to-niglit, I fear, more 
generous than judicial. But, if I have in any way de- 
served commendation, I am proud that it is as an actor 
that I have won it. (Cheers.) As the director of a 
theatre my experience has been short, but as an actor 
I have been before the London public for seventeen 
years ; and on one thing I am sure you will all agree, — 
that no actor or manager has ever received from that 
public more generous and ungrudging encouragement 
and support. (Cheers.) Concerning our visit to 
America I need hardly say that I am looking forward 
to it with no common pleasure. It has often been an 
ambition with Enfylish actors to of^in the o'ood-will of 
the English-speaking race, — a good-will which is right 
heartily reciprocated towards our American fellow- 
workers, wlien they gratify us by sojourning here. 
(Cheers.) Your God-speed would alone assure me a 



AT HOME. 9 

hearty welcome in any land ; but I am not going 
amongst strangers, — I am going amongst friends 
(Ciieers) , — and when I, for the first time, touch 
American ground, I shall receive many a grip of the 
hand from men whose friendship I am proud to possess. 
(Cheers.) Concerning our expedition the American 
people will no doubt exercise an independent judgment, 
— a prejudice of theirs and a habit of long-standing, — 
(Laughter), — as your lordship has reminded us, by the 
fact that to-day is the fourth of July, — an anniversary 
rapidly becoming an English institution. Your lord- 
ship is doubtless aware, as to-night has so happily 
proved, that the stage has reckoned amongst its 
stanchest supporters many great and distinguished 
lawyers. There are many lawyers, I am told, in 
America, — (Laughter), — and as I am sure that they 
all deserve to be judges, I am in hopes that they will 
materially help me to gain a favorable verdict from the 
American people. (Cheers and laughter.) I have 
given but poor expression to my sense of the honor you 
have conferred upon me, and upon the comrades as- 
sociated with me in this our enterprise, — an enterprise 
which, I hope, will favorably show the method and 
discipline of a company of English actors ; on their 
behalf I thank you, and I also thank you on behalf of 
the lady who has so adorned the Lyceum stage, — 
(Cheers) , — and to whose rare gifts your lordship has 
paid so just and gracious a tribute. (Cheers.) The 
climax of the favor extended to me by my countrymen 
has been reached to-night. You have set upon me a 
burden of responsibility, — a burden which I gladly and 



30 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

proudly bear. The memory of to-night will be to me 
a sacred thing, — a memory which will, throughout my 
life, be ever treasured ; a memory which will stimulate 
me to further endeavor, and encourage me to loftier 
aim. (Loud and continued cheers.) 

n. 

No man was ever more written of or talked about 
in America than Henry Irving ; probably no man was 
ever more misrepresented as to his art and his life. A 
monster, according to his enemies ; an angel, if you 
took the verdict of his friends ; he was a mystery to 
untravelled American journalists, and an enigma to the 
great play-going public of the American cities. They 
were told that people either loved or hated him at first 
sight. American tourists even carried home contradic- 
tory reports of him, though the majority were enthusi- 
astic in praise of him as an actor and as a man. The 
American newspaper correspondent is naturally a trifle 
more sensational in the style of his work than his English 
colleague, because his editor favors graphic writing, 
entertaining chronicles, picturesque descriptions. Then 
the sub-editor or compiler of news from the foreign ex- 
changes looks out for " English personals," gossip 
about the Queen, notes on the Prince of Wales, out- 
of-the-way criticisms of actors and public persons of 
all classes ; and so every outre thing that has been pub- 
lished about Irving in England has found its way into 
the ubiquitous press of America. Added to this pub- 
licity, private correspondence has also dealt largely with 



AT HOME, 11 

him, his work, his manners, his habits ; for every 
American who travels writes letters home to his family 
and often to his local paper, and many English people 
who have visited America keep up a pleasant epistolary 
communication with then* good friends in the New 
World. 

III. 

BEmG in New York ahead of Mr. Irving's arrival, I 
found much of the curious fiction of which gossip had 
made him the hero, crystallized into definite assertions, 
that were accepted as undisputed facts. A day's sail 
from the Empire city, in a pretty Eastern villa, I dis- 
covered the London gossip-monger's influence rampant. 
But if a prominent critic in London could publicly 
credit Mr. Lving's success as an actor to his hospitable 
dispensation of " chicken and champagne," one need not 
be surprised that ordinary gossips should draw as lib- 
erally on their imagination for illustrations of his social 
popularity. A leading figure in the world of art, and 
a person of distinction in Vanity Fair, it is not to be 
wondered at that Jealousy and Mrs. Grundy, standing 
outside his orbit, should invent many startling stories 
about him. I have not exaggerated the following 
conversation, and I am glad to use it here, not only 
as illustrative of the singular misrepresentations of 
Living's life and habits, but to bind up in this volume 
a sketch of the actor and the man which has the merit 
of being eminently true, and at the same time not in- 
appropriate to these pages. 

" Lives in chambers ! " exclaimed an American lady, 



12 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

during an after-dinner conversation in a pleasant 
eastern home. "I thought he OAvned a lovely pal- 
ace." 

"Indeed; where, madam?" I asked, "in Utopia?" 

"No, sir; on the banks of your Thames river. A 
little English friend of mine told me so, and described 
the furnishing of it. I understand that it is as splen- 
did as Claude Melnotte's by the Lake of Como." 

"And as real?" 

"I don't know what you mean ; but, if what she says 
is true, it is wickeder, any way. You do not say that 
it is all false about his banquets to the aristocracy, his 
royal receptions ? What about the Prince of Wales, 
then, and Lord Beaconsfield and ]\Ir. Gladstone and 
the Poet Laureate visiting him ? And his garden par- 
ties and the illuminations at night, parterres of flowers 
mixed up with colored lamps, his collections of rhodo- 
dendrons and his military bands ? " 

"Were you ever at a Botanical Fete in Regent's 
Park?" I asked. 

"I have never crossed the Atlantic." 

"Your little English friend evidently knows the 
Botanical well." 

" She is acquainted with everything and everybody in 
London. I wish she were here now. Perhaps she 
knows a little more than some of Mr. Irving's friends 
care to admit." 

"Does she know Mr. Irving?" 

" She knows his house." 

"By the Lake of Como?" 

"No, sir; by the Thames." 



AT HOME. 13 

" One comes from home to hear news. Will you 
not tell us all about it, then?" 

"No, I will not. I think you are positively rude ; 
but that is like you English. There, I beg your par- 
don ; you made me say it. But, seriously now, is not 
Mr. Irving as rich as — " 

" Claude Melnotte?" 

"No; Croesus, or Vanderbilt, or Mackay? And 
does he not live in that palace, and have crowds of ser- 
vants, and visit with the court and the aristocracy? 
Why, I read in the papers myself, quite lately, of an 
estate he had bought near, let me see, — is there such a 
place as Hammersmith?" 

"Yes." 

" Is that on the Thames ? " 

"Yes, more or less." 

"Well, then, is that true? More or less, I sup- 
pose. You are thinking how inquisitive I am. But 
you started the subject." 

"Did I?" 

" You said he lives in chambers." 

"I answered your own question." 

" Ah ! " she said, laughing merrily, " now I know my 
little English friend spoke the truth, because I remem- 
ber she said there was a mystery about Mr. Irving's 
lovely house ; that he only receives a certain princely 
and lordly set there. How could she have described it 
if she had not seen it? A baronial castle, a park, 
lovely gardens, great dogs lying about on the lawns, 
wainscoted chambers, a library full of scarce books 
and costly hric-d-hyxic , Oriental rugs, baths, stained- 



14 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

glass windows, suits of armor, and a powerful bell in 
a turret to call the servants in to meals." 

"Beautiful! But if there is a mystery about it. 
What of those gorgeous receptions?" 

"Oh, don't ask me questions. It is I who am seek- 
ing for information. There is no public person in the 
world just at this moment in whom I take a deeper 
interest. If he were not coming to America I should 
have been obliged to go to London, if only to see what 
you call a first night at the Lyceum. We read all 
about these things. Vie are kept well informed by our 
newspaper correspondents — " 

"And your little English friend." 

"Yes, she writes to me quite often." 

"Well, now I will tell you the truth about that palace 
on the Thames," I said. 

" Ah I he confesses," exclaimed the bright little lady, 
whose friends suspect her of writing more than one of 
the famous American novels. 

An interested and interesting group of ladies and 
"gentlemen brouo'ht their chairs closer to the conversa- 
tional centre of the company. 

"A few years ago, Irving and a friend, strolling 
through the purlieus of Brook Green (a decayed village 
that has been swallowed up by the progress of West 
End, London), towards Hammersmith, saw a house 
to be sold. It was low and dilapidated, but it had 
an old-fashioned garden, and the lease was offered at a 
small sum. Irving knew the house, and he had a mind 
to examine its lialf-ruined rooms. He did so, and con- 
cluded his investigation by buying the lease. It cost him 



AT HOME. 15 

about half the money you would pay for an ordinary 
house off Fifth avenue, in New York ; less than you 
would pay for a house in Eemsen street, Brooklyn ; 
in Michigan avenue, Chicago ; or in Commonwealth 
avenue, Boston. Since then it has been one of his 
few sources of amusement to lay out its garden, to 
restore the old house and make it habitable. It is a 
typical English home, with low red roofs, ancient 
trees, oaken stairs, and a garden with old-fashioned 
flowers and fruit in it ; but it is the home of a yeo- 
man rather than a prince, the home of a Cincinnatus 
rather than the palace of an Alcibiades. The staff of 
servants consists of a gardener and his wife, and I have 
been present at several of the owner's receptions. The 
invitation was given in this wise : ' I am going to drive 
to the Grange, on Sunday afternoon, — will you bring 
your wife, and have a cup of tea? ' And that described 
the feast ; but Irving, looking at his gilliflowers and 
tulips, watching the gambols of his dogs, and discussing 
between whiles the relative cost of carpets and India 
matting, illustrated the truth of the philosophy, that 
there is real recreation and rest in a mere change of oc- 
cupation. Those persons wlio tell you that Irving's 
tastes are not simple, his private life an honor to him, 
and his success the result of earnestness of purpose, 
clearness of aim, deep study and hard work, neither 
know him nor understand how great a battle men fight 
in England, who cut their way upwards from the 
ranks, to stand with the highest at head-quarters." 

Quite a round of applause greeted this plain story. 

" Why, my dear sir," exclaimed my original inter- 



16 IMPRESSIONS OF, AMERICA. 

locutor, " I am right glad to hear the truth. Well, 
well, and that is IVIr. Irving's real home, is it? But I 
thought you said he lives in chambers." 

" One day he hopes to furnish and enjoy the sim- 
plicity and quiet of that cottage in a garden, four miles 
from his theatre ; but he still lives, vs^here he has lived 
for a dozen years or more, in very unpretentious rooms 
in the heart of London." 

And now, courteous reader, come straightway into 
this little company of the friendly and the curious, and 
I will show you where Henry Irving lived until he set 
sail for America, and you shall hea^* him talk about 
his art and his work ; for my good friend, the editor 
of "Harper's Magazine," commissioned me to describe 
the famous English actor at home, and here is the 
result : — 

IV. 

At the corner of Grafton street, where the traffic 
of a famous West End artery ebbs and flows among 
picture exhibitions and jewelry stores, lives the most 
popular actor of his time. It is a mysterious-looking 
house. The basement is occupied by a trunk store. 
From the first floor to the top are Mr. Henry Irving's 
chambers. They present from the outside a series of 
dingy, half-blind windows that suggest no prospect 
of warmth or cheer. " Fitting abode of the spirit 
of tragic gloom ! " you might well exclaim, standing 
on the threshold. You shall enter with me, if you 
will, to correct your first impressions, and bear testi- 
mony to the fact that appearances are often deceptive. 



AT HOME. 17 

This sombre door, the first on the left as we enter 
Grafton street from Bond street, leads to his chambers. 
Two fliglits of stairs (not bright, as a Paris staircase), 
not with the sunlight upon the carpet, as in New York, 
but darkened with the shadows of a London atmosphere, 
— and we enter his general room. AVith the hum of the 
West End buzzing at the windows, the colored glass 
of which shuts out what little sunlight falls there, the 
apartment is characteristic of a great artist and a great 
city. The mantel-piece recalls the ancient fashion of 
old English mansions. It is practically an oak cabi- 
net, with a silver shield as the centre-piece. On the 
opposite side of the room is a well-stocked bookcase, 
surmounted by a raven that carries one's thoughts to 
Poe and his sombre story. On tables here and there 
are materials for letter-writing, and evidence of much 
correspondence, though one of the actor's social sins is 
said to be the tardiness w^th which he answers let- 
ters. The truth is, the many pressing claims on his 
time do not enable him to act always upon the late 
Duke of Wellington's well-known principle of imme- 
diately replying to every letter that is addressed to 
him. A greater philosopher than His Grace said 
many letters answer themselves if you let them alone, 
and I should not wonder if Irvinof finds much truth in 
the axiom. J^ric-d-br^ac, historic relics, theatrical prop- 
erties, articles of virtu, lie about in admired disorder. 
Here is Edmund Kean's sword, which was presented to 
Irving on the first night of his Eichard III. by that 
excellent and much-respected artist Mr. Chippendale, 
who had acted with Edmund Kean, and was his per- 



18 IMPRESSIONS OF. AMERIGA. 

was his personal friend. In a glass case near this 
precious treasure is a ring that belonged to David 
Garrick. It is an exquisite setting of a miniature of 
Shakespeare. This was given to Irving by the Baron- 
ess Burdett-Coutts. In a cabinet near one of the win- 
dows, the order of the George, which Edmund Kean 
wore in "Richard III.," and his prompt-book of 
"Othello." Close by are three marble busts, — one 
of Young, with a faded wreath upon its brow ; another 
of Mrs. Harriet Brown, "a most dear and valued 
friend" (to use his own words) ; and the third, of 
Ellen Terry, sculptured by Irving's friend, Brodie, — 
a portrait of Rossi (presented by the actor) as Nero ; 
a photograph of Charles Dickens (presented by Miss 
Mary Dickens) , — the one by Gurney, of New York, 
which the great author himself thought an excellent 
portrait ; medallions of fimile Devrient and John Iler- 
cheU (the latter a gift from Herchell's daughter) ; and 
a sketch of a favorite Scotch terrier (very well known 
to his friends as " Charlie " ) , which during the last year 
or two has become his most constant companion at 
home and at the theatre. The adjoining room con- 
tinues the collection of the actor's art treasures, — not 
the mere connoisseur's museum of articles of virtu, 
but things which have a personal value and a special 
history associated with the art their owner loves. 

It is a frank smile that greets us as the actor enters 
and extends his long, thin hand. I know no one whose 
hand is so suggestive of nervous energy and artistic 
capacity as Irving's. It is in perfect harmony with the 
long, expressive fa^je, the notably aesthetic figure ! 



AT UOME. 19 

"You want to talk shop," he says, striding about 
the room, with his hands in the pockets of his loose 
gray coat. "Well, with all my heart, if you think it 
useful and interesting." 

" I do." 

"May I select the subject?" 

"Yes." 

" Then I would like to go back to one we touched 
upon at your own suggestion some months ago." 

" An actor on his audiences ? " 

"Yes. The subject is a good one; it interests me, 
and in that brief anonymous newspaper sketch of a 
year ago you did little more than indicate the points 
we discussed. Let us see if we cannot revive and 
complete it." 

"Agreed. I will interview' you, then, as they say 
in America." 

"By all means," replied my host, handing me a 
cigar, and settling himself down in an easy-chair by 
the fire. "I am ready." 

"Well, then, as I think I have said before when on 
this subject, there has always appeared to me some- 
thing phenomenal in the mutual understanding that 
exists between you and your audiences ; it argues an 
active sympathy and confidence on both sides." 

"That is exactly what I think exists. In presence 
of my audience I feel as safe and contented as when 
sitting down with an old friend." 

"I have seen Lord Beaconsfield, when he was Mr. 
Disraeli, rise in the House of Commons, and begin a 
speech in a vein and manner evidently considered 



20 IMPBESSIONS OF, AMERICA. 

beforehand, which, proving at the moment out of 
harmony with the feelings of the house, he has entirely 
altered from his original idea to suit the immediate 
mood and temper of his audience. Now, sympathetic 
as you are with your audience, have you, under their 
influence in the development of a new character, ever 
altered your first idea during the course of the repre- 
sentation ? " 

"You open up an interesting train of thought," he 
answered. "Except once, I have never altered my 
original idea under the circumstances you suggest; 
that was in ' Yanderdecken,' and I changed the last 
scene. I can always tell when the audience is with 
me. It Avas not wdth me in ^ Vanderdecken ' ; neither 
was it entirely on the first night of ^Hamlet,' which is, 
perhaps, curious, considering my subsequent success. 
On the first night I felt that the audience did not go 
with me until the first meeting with Ophelia, when 
they changed toward me entirely. But as night 
succeeded night, my Hamlet grew in their estimation. 
I could feel it all the time, and now I knoio that they 
like it, — that they are with me heart and soul. I will 
tell you a curious thing about my ^Hamlet' audience. 
It is the most interesting audience I play to. For any 
other piece tliere is a difficulty in getting the people 
seated by half-past eight. For * Hamlet' the house 
is full and quiet, and waiting for the curtain to go up, 
by half-past seven. On the first night the curtain 
dropped at a quarter to one." 

" In what part do you feel most at home with your 
audience, and most certain of them?" 



AT HOME. 21 

"Well, In Hamlet," he replied, thoughtfully. 

" Has that been your greatest pecuniary success ? " 

"Yes." 

" What were the two unprecedented runs of ^ Ham- 
let'?" 

" The first was two hundred nights ; the second, one 
hundred and seven ; and in the country I have often 
played it ten times out of a twelve nights' engagement. 
But, as we have moved into this line of thought about 
audiences, it should be remembered that, with the 
exception of two or three performances, I had never 
played Hamlet before that first night at the Lyceum. 
Indeed, so far as re2:ards what is called the classic and 
legitimate drama, my successes, such as they were, had 
been made outside it, really in eccentric comedy. As a 
rule, actors who have appeared for the first time in Lon- 
don in such parts as Richard HI., Macbeth, Hamlet, 
and Othello, have played them previously for years in 
the country ; and here comes a point about my audiences. 
They knew this, and I am sure they estimated the per- 
formance accordingly, giving me their special sympathy 
and good wishes. I believe in the justice of audiences. 
They are sincere and hearty in their approval of what 
they like, and have the greatest hand in making an 
actor's reputation. Journalistic power cannot be over- 
valued ; it is enormous ; but, in regard to actors, it is 
a remarkable fact that their permanent reputations, the 
final and lasting verdict of their merits, are made 
chiefly by their audiences. Sometimes the true record 
comes after the players are dead, and it is sometimes 
written by men who possibly never saw them. Ed- 



22 niPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

mund Kean's may be called a posthumous reputation. 
If you read the newspapers of the time you will find 
that during his acting days he was terribly mauled. 
Garrick's impersonations were not much written about 
in liis day. As to Burbage, Betterton, aud other 
famous actors of their time, whose names are familiar 
to us, when they lived there were practically no news- 
papers to chronicle their work." 

'* You believe, then, that merit eventually makes its 
mark, in spite of professional criticism, and that, like 
Masonic rituals, the story of success, its form and 
pressure, may go down orally to posterity?" 

"I believe that what audiences really like they 
stand by. I believe they hand down the actor's name 
to future generations. They are the judge and jury 
who find the verdict and pronounce sentence. I will 
give you an example in keeping with the rapid age in 
which we live. I am quite certain that within twelve 
hours of the production of a new play of any impor- 
tance all London knows whether the piece is a success 
or a failure, no matter whether the journals have 
criticised it or not. Each person in the audience is the 
centre of a little community, and the word is passed on 
from one to the other." 

" What is your feeling in regard to first-night audi- 
ences, apart from the regular play-going public? I 
should imagine that the sensitive nature of a true artist 
must be considerably jarred by the knowledge that a 
first-night audience is peculiarly fastidious and sophisti- 
cated." 

" I confess I am happier in presence of what you call 



AT HOME. 23 

the regular play-going public. I am apt to become 
depressed on a first night. Some of my friends and 
fellow-artists are stimulated and excited by a sense of 
opposition. I fear it lowers me. I know tliat while 
there is a good, hearty crowd who have come to be 
pleased, there are some who have not come to be 
pleased. God help us if we were in the hands of the 
few who, frohi personal or other motives, come to the 
theatre in the hope of seeing a failure, and who pour 
out their malice and spite in anonymous letters ! " 

" Detraction and malicious opposition are among the 
penalties of success. To be on a higher platform than 
your fellows is to be a mark for envy and slander," I 
answered, dropping, I fear, into platitude, which my 
host cut short with a shrug of the shoulders and a 
rapid stride across the room. 

He handed to me a book, handsomely bound and 
with broad margins, through which ran a ripple of old- 
faced type, evidently the work of an author and a handi- 
craftsman who love the memories both of Caxton and 
his immediate successors. It was entitled "Notes on 
Louis XI. ; with some short extracts from Commines' 
Memoirs," and was dated "London, 1878, — printed 
for the author." 

"That book," said mj^ host, "was sent to me by a 
person I had then never seen nor heard of. It came to 
me anonymously. I wished to have a second copy of 
it, and sent to the printer with the purpose of obtaining 
it. He replied by telling me the work was not for sale, 
and referring me to the author, whose address he sent 
to me. I made the application as requested; another 



24 IMPRESSIONS OF' AMERICA. 

copy was forwarded, and with it a kindly intimation 
that if ever I should be near the house of the writer, 
* we should be glad to see you.' I called in due course, 
and found the author one of a most agreeable family. 
' You will wonder,' they said at parting, * why we 
W'rote and compiled this book. It was simply for this 
reason : a public critic in a leading journal had said, as 
nothing was really known of the character, manners, 
and habits of Louis XI., an actor might take whatever 
liberties he pleased with the subject. We prepared this 
little volume to put on record a refutation of the state- 
ment, a protest against it, and a tribute to your imper- 
sonation of the character.' Here is another present 
that I received soon afterward, — one of the most 
beautiful works of its kind I ever remember to have 
seen." 

It was an artistic casket, in which was enshrined 
what looked like a missal bound in carved ivory and 
gold. It proved, however, to be a beautifully bound 
book of poetic and other memorials of Charles the 
First, printed and illustrated by hand, with exquisite 
head and tail pieces in water-colors, portraits, coats-of- 
arms, and vignettes, by Buckman, Castaing, Terrel, 
Slie, and Phillips. The work was " imprinted for the 
author at London, 30th January, 1879," and the title 
ran : " To the Honor of Henry Irving : to cherish the 
Memory of Charles the First : these Thoughts, Gold 
of the Dead, are here devoted." As a work of art, 
the book is a treasure. The portraits of the Charleses 
and several of their generals are in the highest style of 
water-color painting, with gold borders ; and the initial 



AT HOME. 25 

letters and otlier embellishments are studies of tlie 
most finished and delicate character. 

"Now these," said their owner, returning the vol- 
umes to the book-shelves over which the raven 
stretched its wings, "are only two out of scores of 
proofs that audiences are intellectually active, and that 
they find many ways of fixing their opinions. These 
incidents of personal action are evidences of the spirit 
of the whole. One night, in "Hamlet," something 
was thrown upon the stage. It struck a lamp, and 
fell into the orchestra. It could not be found for some 
time. An inquiry was made about it by some person in 
the front, — an aged woman, who was much concerned 
that I had not received it, — so I was informed at 
the box-office. A sad-looking woman, evidently very 
poor, called the next day ; and, being informed that 
the trinket was found, expressed herself greatly 
pleased. ' I often come to the gallery of the theatre,' 
she said, ^ and I wanted Mr. Irving to have this family 
heirloom. I wanted him alone in this world to possess 
it.' This is the trinket, which I wear on my watch- 
chain. The theatre was evidently a solace to that poor 
soul. She had probably some sorrow in her life ; and 
she may have felt a kind of comfort in Hamlet, or 
myself, perhaps, possessing this little cross." 

As he spoke, the actor's lithe fingers were busy at his 
watch-chain, and he seemed to be questioning the secret 
romance of the trinket thrown to him from the gallery. 

"I don't know why else she let it fall upon the 
stage ; but strange impulses sometimes take hold of 
people sitting at a play, especially in tragedy." 



26 IMPBESSIONS OF. AMEBIC A. 

The trinket about which he speculated so much is an 
old-fashioned gold cross. On two sides is engraved, 
"Faith, Hope, and Charity"; on the front, "I believe 
in the forgiveness of sins " ; and on the reverse, " I 
scorn to fear or change." 

"They said at the box-office," went on the actor, 
musingly, "that she was a poor mother who had lost 
her son ; " and then, rousing himself, he returned 
brightly to the subject of our conversation. "One 
example," he said, " of the generous sympathy of 
audiences serves to point the moral of what I mean ; 
and in every case the motive is the same, to show an 
earnest appreciation, and to encourage and give pleas- 
ure to the actor. At Sheffield one night, during the 
grouse season, a man in the gallery threw a brace of 
birds upon the stage, with a rough note of thanks and 
compliments ; and one of the pit audience sent me 
round a knife which he had made himself. You see, 
the people who do these things have nothing to gain ; 
they are under no extraneous influence ; they judge for 
themselves ; and they are representative of that great 
Public Opinion which makes or mars, and which in the 
end is always right. When they are against you it is 
hard at the time to be convinced that you are v.Tong ; 
but you are. Take my case. I made my first suc- 
cess at the St. James's. We were to have opened 
with ' Hunted Down.' We did not. I was cast for 
Doricourt in ' The Belle's Stratagem,' — a part which 
I had never played before, and which I thought did 
not suit me. I felt that this was the opinion of the 
audience soon after the play began. The house ap- 



AT HOME. 27 

peared to be indifferent, and I believed that fliilure was 
conclusively stamped upon my work, when suddenly, 
on my exit after the mad scene, I was startled by a 
burst of applause, and so great was the enthusiasm of 
the audience that I was compelled to reappear on the 
scene, — a somewhat unusual thing, as you know, 
except on the operatic stage." 

"And in America," I said, "where scene-calls are 
quite usual, and quite destructive of the illusion of the 
play, I think." 

" You are right ; and, by the way, if there must be 
calls, I like our modern method of taking a call after 
an act on the scene itself. But to proceed. I next 
played^ Hunted Down,' and they liked me in that ; and 
when they do like, audiences are no niggards of their 
confessions of pleasure. My next engagement was at 
the Queen's Theatre, where I was successful. Then I 
went to the Gaiety, where I played Chevenex. I fol- 
lowed at Drury Lane in ^ Formosa,' and nobody noticed 
me at all." 

" Do you think you always understand the silence of 
an audience? I mean in this way : on a first night, for 
example, I have sometimes gone round to speak to an 
actor, and have been met with the remark, ^ How cold 
the audience is ! ' as if excessive quietness was indicative 
of displeasure, the idea being that when an audience 
is really pleased, it always stamps its feet and claps 
its hands. I have seen an artist making his or her 
greatest success with an audience that manifested its 
delight by suppressing every attempt at applause." 

*'I know exactly what you mean," he answered. " I 



28 IMPRESSIONS OF- AMEBICA. 

recall a case in point. There was such an absence of 
applause on the first night of 'The Two Koses,' wliile 
I was on the stage, that I could not believe my friends 
when they congratulated me on my success. But with 
experience one gets to understand the idiosyncrasies 
and habits of audiences. You spoke of the silence of 
some audiences. The most wonderful quiet and silence 
I have ever experienced as an actor, a stillness that is 
profound, has been in those two great theatres, the one 
that was burned down at Glasgow, and the Standard, in 
London, during the court scene of * The Bells.'" 



V. 

Genius is rarely without a sense of humor. Mr. 
Irving has a broad appreciation of fun, though his 
own humor is subtle and deep down. This is never 
better shown than in his Richard and Louis. It 
now and then appears in liis conversations ; and when 
he has an anecdote to tell he seems to develop the 
finer and more delicate motives of the action of the 
narrative, as if he were dramatizing it as he went 
along. We dropped our main subject of audiences 
presently to talk of other things. He related to me a 
couple of stories of a " dresser " who was his servant in 
days gone by. The poor man is dead now, and these 
incidents of his life will not hurt his memory. 

" One night," said Irving, " when I had been play- 
ing a new part, the old man said, while dressing 
me, ' This is your master-piece, sir ! ' How do you 
think he had arrived at this opinion? He had seen 



AT HOME. 29 

nothing of the piece, but he noticed that I perspired 
more than usual. The poor fellow was given over to 
drink at last ; so I told him we must part if he did not 
mend his ways. *I wonder,' I said to him, Hhat, for 
the sake of your wife and children, you do not 
reform ; besides, you look so ridiculous.' Indeed, 
I never saw a sillier man when he was tipsy ; and 
his very name would set children laughing, — it was 
Doody. AVell, in response to my appeal, with 
maudlin vanity and with tears in his eyes, he an- 
swered, ' They make so much of me ! ' It reminded me 
of Dean Ramsay's story of his drunken parishioner. 
The parson, you remember, admonished the whiskey- 
drinking Scot, concluding his lecture by offering his 
own conduct as an' example. ' I can go into the village 
and come home again without getting drunk.' 'Ah, 
minister, but I'm sae popular I ' was the fuddling 
parishioner's apologetic reply. 

A notable person in appearance, I said just now. 
Let me sketch the famous actor as we leave his rooms 
together. A tall, spare figure in a dark overcoat and 
grayish trousers, black neckerchief carelessly tied, a 
tall hat, rather broad at the brim. His hair is black 
and bushy, with a wave in it on the verge of a curl, 
and suggestions of gray at the temples and over the 
ears. It is a pale, somewhat ascetic face, with bushy 
eyebrows, dark dreamy eyes, a nose that indicates 
gentleness rather than strength, a thin upper lip, a 
mouth opposed to all ideas of sensuousness, but nervous 
and sensitive, a strong jaw and chin, and a head 
inclined to droop a little, as is often the case with men 



30 IMPRESSION^ OF, AMEBIC A. 

of a studious habit. There is great individuality in 
the whole figure, and in the face a rare mobility which 
photography fails to catch in all the efforts I have yet 
seen of English artists. Though the popular idea is 
rather to associate tragedy with the face and manner of 
Irving, there is nothing sunnier than his smile. It 
lights up all his countenance, and reveals his soul in his 
eyes ; but it is like the sunshine that bursts for a 
moment from a cloud, and disappears to leave the land- 
scape again in shadows, flecked here and there with 
fleeting reminiscences of the sun. 

The management of the Lyceum Theatre has a 
moral and classic atmosphere of its own. A change 
came over the house with the success of " The Bells." 
" Charles I." consummated it. You enter the theatre 
with feelings entirely different from those which take 
possession of you at any other house. It is as if the 
management inspired you with a special sense of its 
responsibility to Art, and your own obligations to sup- 
port its earnest endeavors. ]\Ir. Irving has intensified 
all this by a careful personal attention to every detail 
belono^ins: to the conduct of his theatre. He has 
stamped his own individuality upon it. His influence 
is seen and felt on all hands. He has given the color 
of his ambition to his officers and servants. His 
object is to perfect the art of dramatic representation, 
and elevate the profession to which he belongs. There 
is no commercial consideration at work when he is 
mounting a play, though his experience is that neither 
expense nor pains are lost on the public. 



AT HOME, 31 

VI. 

When Mr. Irving's art is discussed, when his 
Hamlet or his Mathias, his Shylock or his Dei Fran- 
chi, are discussed, he should be regarded from a 
broader stand-point than that of the mere actor. He 
is entitled to be looked at as not only the central figure 
of the play, but as the motive power of the whole 
entertainment, — the master who has set the story and 
grouped it, the controlling genius of the moving 
picture, the source of the inspiration of the painter, 
the musician, the costumer, and the machinist, whose 
combined efforts go to the realization of the actor- 
manager's conception and plans. It is acknowledged 
on all hands that Mr. Irving has done more for 
dramatic art all round than any actor of our time ; and 
it is open to serious question whether any artist of any 
time has done as much. Not alone on the stage, but 
in front of it, at the very entrance of his theatre, the 
dignified influence of his management is felt. Every 
department has for its head a man of experience and 
tact, and every person about the place, from the 
humblest messensrer to the hio'hest officer and actor, 
seems to carry about with him a certain pride of asso- 
ciation with the management. 

]Mr. Irving's dressing-room at the theatre is a 
thorough business-like apartment, with at the same 
time evidences of the taste which obtains at his cham- 
bers. It is as unpretentious and yet in its way as 
remarkable as the man. See him sitting there at the 
dressing-table, where he is model to himself, where he 



32 IMPBESSIONS OF -AMERICA. 

converts himself into the character he is sustaining. 
His own face is his canvas, his own person, for the 
time being, the lay figure which he adorns. It is a 
large square table in the corner of the room. In the 
centre is a small old-fashioned mirror, which is prac- 
tically the easel upon which he works ; for therein is 
reflected the face which has to depict the passion 
and fear of Mathias, the cupidity of Richard, the 
martyrdom of Charles, the grim viciousness of 
Dubosc, the implacable justice of the avenging 
Dei Franchi, and the touching melancholy of 
Hamlet. As a mere matter of "make-up," his realiza- 
tions of the historical pictures of Charles the First 
and Philip of Spain are the highest kind of art. They 
belong to Vandyck and Velasquez, not only in their 
imitation of the great masters, but in the sort of inspi- 
ration for character and color which moved those 
famous painters. See him sitting, I say, the actor- 
artist at his easel. A tray on the right-hand side 
of his mirror fnay be called his palette ; it contains 
an assortment of colors, paint-pots, powders, and 
brushes ; but in his hand, instead of the maul- 
stick, is the familiar hare's-foot, — the actor's " best 
friend" from the earliest days of rouge and burned 
cork. To the left of the mirror lie letters opened 
and unopened, missives just brought by the post, 
a jewel-box, and various "properties" in the way 
of chains, lockets, or buckles that belong to the part 
he is playing. He is talking to his stage-manager, 
or to some intimate friend, as he continues his 
work. You can hear the action of the drama that is 



AT HOME. 33 

going on, — a distant clieer, the clash of swords, a 
merry laugh, or a passing chorus. The " call-boy " 
of the theatre looks in at intervals to report the prog- 
ress of the piece up to the point where it is neces- 
sary the leading artist should appear upon the stage. 
Then, as if he is simply going to see a friend who is 
waiting for him, Irving leaves his dressing-room, and 
you are alone. There is no " pulling himself together," 
or " bracing up," or putting on " tragic airs " as he 
goes. It is a pleasant "Good-night," or "I shall see 
you again," that takes him out of his dressing-room, 
and you can tell when he is before the audience by the 
loud cheers that come rushing up the staircases from the 
stage. While he is away, you look around the room. 
You find that the few pictures which decorate the walls 
are theatrical portraits. Here is an etching of Garrick's 
head ; there a water-color of Ellen Terry ; here a study 
of Macready in Virginius ; there a study in oil of Ed- 
mund Kean, by Clint, side by side with a portrait of 
George Frederic Cooke, by Liversiege. Interspersed 
among these things are framed play-bills of a past age 
and interesting autograph letters. Near the dressing- 
table is a tall looking-glass, in front of it an easy-chair, 
over which are lying a collection of new draperies and 
costumes recently submitted for the actor-manager's 
approval. The room is warm with the gas that 
illuminates it ; the atmosphere delightful to the 
fancy that finds a special fascination behind the foot- 
lights. 



34 IMPRESSIONS OF ^AMERICA. 



vn. 

A REFLECTIVE writer, with the power to vividly 
recall a past age and contrast it with the present, might 
find ample inspiration in the rooms to which ]\Ir. 
Irving presently invites us. It is Satm-day night. 
On this last day in every acting week it is his hahit to 
sup at the theatre, and, in spite of his two perform- 
ances, he finds strength enough to entertain a few 
guests, sometimes a snug party of three, sometimes a 
lively company of eight or ten. We descend a car- 
peted staircase, cross the stage upon the remains of the 
snow scene of the " Corsican Brothers," ascend a wind- 
ing stair, pass through an armory packed with such 
a variety of weapons as to suggest the Tower of Lon- 
don, and are then ushered into a spacious wainscoted 
apartment, with a full set of polished ancient armor in 
each corner of it, an antique fireplace with the example 
of an old master over the mantel, a high-backed settee 
in an alcove opposite the blind windows (the sills of 
which arc decorated with ancient bottles and jugs), and 
in the centre of the room an old oak dining-table, fur- 
nished for supper with white cloth, cut glass, and 
silver, among which shine the familiar beet-root and 
tomato. 

"This was the old Beefsteak Club room," says our 
host ; " beyond there is the kitchen ; the members 
dined here. The apartments were lumber-rooms until 
lately." 

Classic lumber-rooms truly ! In the history of the 
clubs no association is more famous than the Sublime 



AT HOME, 35 

Society of Beefsteaks. The late William Jerdan was 
the first to attempt anything like a concise sketch of 
the club, and he wrote his reminiscences thereof for me 
and " The Gentleman's Magazine " a dozen years ago, 
in the popular modern days of that periodical. Jerdan 
gave me an account of the club in the days when he 
visited it. " The President," he said, — " an absolute 
despot during his reign, — sat at the head of the table 
adorned with ribbon and badge, and with the insignia 
of a silver gridiron on his breast; his head, when he 
was oracular, was crowned with a feathery hat, said to 
have been worn by Garrick in some gay part on the 
stage. He looked every inch a king. At the table on 
this occasion were seated the Bishop, Samuel Arnold, 
the patriotic originator of English opera, and strenu- 
ous encourager of native musical talent. Pie wore 
a mitre, said to have belonged to Cardinal Gregorio ; 
but be that as it might, it became him well as he 
set it on his head to pronounce the grace before 
meat, which he intoned as reverently as if he had been 
in presence of the Archbishop of Canterbury instead of 
a bevy of Steakers. Near him was John Richards, the 
Recorder, whose office in passing sentence on culprits 
was discharged with piquancy and effect. Captain 
Morris, the Laureate, occupied a distinguished seat; so 
also did Dick Wilson, tlie Secretary, a bit of a butt to 
the jokers, who were wont to extort from him some 
account of a Continental trip, where he prided himself 
on having ordered a ^boulevard' for his dinner, and 
un paysa7i (£or Jaisan) to be roasted ; and last of all 
I can recall to mind, at the bottom of the plenteous 



36 IMPRESSIONS OF ^AMERICA. 

board sat the all-important ^ Boots,' the youngest mem- 
ber of the august assembly. These associated as a 
sort of staff with a score of other gentlemen, all men 
of the world, men of intellect and intelligence, well 
educated, and of celebrity in various lines of life — 
noblemen, lawyers, physicians and surgeons, authors, 
artists, newspaper editors, actors, — it is hardly pos- 
sible to conceive any combination of various talent to 
be more efficient for the object sought than the Beef- 
steaks. The accommodation for their meetings was 
built, expressly for that end, behind the scenes of 
the Lyceum Theatre, by Mr. Arnold ; and, among 
other features, was a room with no daylight to intrude, 
and this was the dining-room, with the old gridiron 
on the ceiling, over the centre of the table. The 
cookery on which the good cheer of the company 
depended was carried on in what may be called the 
kitchen, in full view of the chairman, and served 
through the opposite wall, namely, a huge gridiron 
with bars as wide apart as the ^ chess ' of small win- 
dows, handed hot-and-hot to the expectant hungerers. 
There were choice salads (mostly of beetroot), porter, 
and port. The plates were never overloaded, but small 
cuts sufficed till almost satiated appetite perhaps called 
for one more from the third cut in the rump itself, 
which His Grace of Norfolk, after many slices, prized 
as the grand essence of bullock ! " 

Other times, other manners. The rooms are still 
there. The gridiron is gone from the ceiling, but the 
one through which sliced bullock used to be handed 
" hot-and-hot " to the nobility of blood and intellect 



AT HOME. 37 

remains. It and the kitchen (now furnished with a 
fine modern cooking-range) are shut off from the 
dining-room, and neither porter nor port ever weighs 
down the spirits of Mr. Irving's guests. He sometimes 
regales a few friends here after the play. The memc 
on these occasions would contrast as strangely with 
that of the old days as the guests and the subjects of 
their conversation and mirth. It is classic ground on 
which we tread, and the ghosts that rise before us are 
those of Sheridan, Perry, Lord Erskine, Cam Hob- 
house, and their boon companions. Should the nota- 
bilities among Irving's friends be mentioned, the list 
would be a fair challenge to the old Beefsteaks. I do 
not propose to deal with these giants of yesterday and 
to-day, but to contrast with Jerdan's picture a recent 
supper of guests gathered together on an invitation of 
only a few hours previously. On tlie left side of 
Irving sat one of his most intimate friends, a famous 
London comedian ; on the right, a well-known American 
tragedian, who had not yet played in London ; oppo- 
site, at the other side of the circular-ended table, sat a 
theatrical manager from Dublin, and another of the same 
profession from the English midlands ; the other chairs 
were occupied by a famous traveller, an American gentle- 
man connected with literature and life insurance, a young 
gentleman belonging to English political and fashion- 
able society, the editor of a Liverpool journal, a pro- 
vincial playwright, and a north-country philanthropist. 
The repast began with oysters, and ran through a few 
entrees and a steak, finishing with a rare old Stilton 
cheese. There were various salads, very dry sherry 



38 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

and Champagne, a rich Burgundy, and, after all, sodas 
and brandies and cigars. The talk was " shop " from 
first to last, — discussions of the artistic treatment of 
certain characters by actors of the day and of a previ- 
ous age, anecdotes of the stage, the position of the 
drama, its purpose and mission. Every guest con- 
tributed his quota to the general talk, the host himself 
giving way to the humor of the hour, and chatting of 
his career, his position, his hopes, his prospects, his 
ambition, in the frankest way. Neither the space at 
my disposal nor the custom of the place will permit of 
a revelation of this social dialogue ; for the founder 
of the feast has revived, with the restored Beefsteak 
rooms, the motto from Horace's "Epistles" (para- 
phrased by the old club Bishop) , which is still inscribed 
on the dining-room wall : — 

** Let no one bear beyond this threshold hence, 
Words uttered here in friendly confidence." 



NEW YORK. 39 



II. 



NEW YORK. 

Going to Meet the " Britannic " — The " Blackhird " — Skirmishers of the 
American Press — The London " Standard's " Message to New York, 
Boston, and Chicago — " Working " America — " Beportorial " Ex- 
periences — Dayhght off Staten Island — At Quarantine under the 
Stars and Stripes — *' God Save the Queen ! " and " Hail to the Chief! " 
— Received and " Interviewed " — " Portia on a Trip fi'om the Venetian 
Seas" — What the Reporters Think and what Irving Says — The 
Necessity of Applause — An Anecdote of Forrest — Mr. Vanderbilt 
and the Mirror — Miss Terry and the Reporters — '' Tell them I never 
loved home so well as now " — Landed and Welcomed — Scenes on the 
Quay — At the Brevoort. 

I. 

Four o'clock in the morning, October 21, 1883. 
A cheerful gleam of light falls upon a group of 
Lotos guests as they separate at the hospitable 
door-way of that famous New York club. Otherwise 
Fifth avenue is solitary and cold. The voices of 
the clubmen strike the ear pleasantly. " Going to meet 
Irving," you hear some of them say, and "Good-night," 
the others. Presently the group breaks up, and moves 
off in different directions. " I ordered a carriage at the 
Brevoort House," says one of the men who pursue 
their way down Fifth avenue. They are the only 
persons stirring in the street. The electric arcs give 
them accompanying shadows as black as the night- 
clouds above them. The Edison lamps exhibit the 
tall buildings, sharp and clear, against the dark- 



40 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

ness. Two guardians of a carpet-store, on the 
corner of Fourteenth street, sleep cahnly among the 
show-bales that decorate the sidewalk. An empty car 
goes jingling along into Union square. A pair of 
flickering lights are seen in the distance. They belong 
to "the carriage at the Brevoort House." It will only 
hold half our number. The civilities that belon": to 
such a situation being duly exchanged, there are some 
who prefer to walk ; and an advance is made on foot 
and on wheels towards the North river. 

For my own part I would, as a rule, rather walk 
than ride in a private carriage in New York. The 
street cars and the elevated railroad are comfortable 
enough ; but a corduroy road in a forest track is not 
more emphatic in its demands upon tlie nerves of a 
timid driver than are the pitfalls of a down-town street 
in the Empire city. I nevertheless elect to ride. We 
are four ; we might be any number, to one who should 
attempt to count us, so numerous does the jolting of 
our otherwise comfortable brougham appear to make 
us. We are tossed and pitched about as persistently 
as we might be in a dingy during a gale off some 
stormy headland. Presently the fresh breeze of the 
river blows upon us as if to justify the simile ; then we 
are thrown at each other more violently than ever ; a 
flash of gas-light greets us ; the next moment it is dark 
again, and we stop with alarming suddenness. 
" Twenty-second street pier," says our driver, opening 
the door. We are received by a mysterious officer, who 
addresses us from beneath a world of comforters and 
overcoats. " Want the ^Blackbird' ? " he asks. We do. 



NEW YOBK. 41 

" This way," he says. We follow him, to be ushered 
straightway into the presence of those active scouts 
and skirmishers of the American press, — the inter- 
viewers. Here they are, a veritable army of them, on 
board Mr. Starin's well-known river steamer, the 
"Blackbird," their wits and their pencils dtdy sharp- 
ened for their prey. Youth and age both dedicate 
themselves to this lively branch of American journal- 
ism. I tell a London friend who is here to "mind 
his eye," or they may practise upon him, and that 
if he refuses to satisfy their inquiries they may sacrifice 
him to their spleen ; for some of them are shivering 
with cold, and complaining that they have had no 
rest. Findins: an EuG^lish artist here from the " Illus- 
trated London News," I conduct him secretly to the 
'^Ladies' cabin." It is occupied by a number of 
mysterious forms, lying about in every conceivable 
posture ; some on the floor, some on the sofas ; their 
faces partially disguised under slouch hats, their figures 
enveloped in cloaks and coats. They are asleep. The 
cabin is dimly lighted, and there is an odor of tobacco 
in the oily atmosphere. "Who are they?" asks my 
friend, in a whisper. " Interviewers ! " I reply, as we 
slip back to the stove in the saloon. " What a picture 
Dore would have made of the ladies' cabin ! " says the 
English artist. 

II. 

We encounter more new-comers in the saloon. 
Two of them bring copies of the morning papers. 
I recof^jnize several of the interesting crowd, and 



42 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

cannot help telling them something of the conver- 
sation of the Beefsteak Club room guest who drew 
their pictures in London, as a warning to the traveller 
whom they were going to meet. I find them almost 
as ill-informed, and quite as entertaining, concerning 
Irving's mannerisms, as was the traveller in question 
touching their own occupation. They talk very much 
in the spirit of what has recently appeared here in some 
of the newspapers about Irving and his art-methods. 
New York, they say, will not be dictated to by Lon- 
don ; New York judges for itself. At the same time 
they do not think it a generous thing on the part of 
the London "Standard" to send a hostile editorial 
avant-courier to New York, to prejudice the English 
actor's audiences and his critics.^ Nor do they tliink 

1 The following cablegram appeai'ecl in the " Herald," on October the 
18th, and it was alluded to in the editorial columns as "a hint" which 
" will not be lost upon the theatrical critics " : — 

" London, Oct. 17, 1883. 

" The * Standard,' in an editorial this morning, thus appeals to America 
lor a dispassionate judgment of Ilemy Irving : — 

''American audiences have a favorable oppoi'tunity of showing that they 
can think for themselves, and do not slavishly echo the criticisms of the 
English press. ^Ye confess that, though one has read many eulogistic 
notices of Mr. Irving and listened in private to opinions of different com- 
plexions, it is difficult to find anything written respecting him that deserves 
to be dignified with the description of serious criticisms. Cannot New 
York, Boston, and Chicago supply us with a little of this material ? Are 
we indulging vain imaginings if we hope that our cousins across the water 
will forget all that has been said or written about Irving and the Lyceum 
company this side of the ocean, and will go to see him in his chief perform- 
ances with unprejudiced eyes and ears, and send us, at any rate, a true, 
independent, inconventional account of his gifts and graces, or the 
reverse ? 

" Most Englishmen naturally will be gratified if the people of the United 
States find Irving as tragic, and Miss Terry as charming, as so many people 
in this country consider them. But the gratification will be increased 



NEW YORK. 43 

this "Britlsli malevolence" will have any effect either 
way, though the " Standard" practically proclaims Mr. 
Irving and Miss Terry as impostors. This article has 
been printed by the press, from New York to San 
Francisco, while the Lyceum Company and its chief 
are on the Atlantic. I have often heard it said, in 
England, that Irving had been wonderfully "worked" 
in America. Men who are worthy to have great and 
devoted friends unconsciously make bitter enemies. 
Irving is honored with a few of these attendants upon 
fame. If the people who regard his reputation as a 
thing that has been " worked " could have visited New 
York a week before his arrival they could not have 
failed to be delio^hted to see how much was beino* 
done against him, and how little for him. An 
ingenious and hostile pamphleteer was in evidence 
in every bookseller's window. Villanous cheap 
photographs of "actor and manager" were hawked 
in the streets. Copies of an untruthful sketch 
of his career, printed by a London weekly, 
were circulated through the mails. The "Stand- 
ard's" strange appeal to New York, Boston, and 
Chicago was cabled to the " Herald " and repub- 
lished in the evening papers. Ticket speculators 
had bought up all the best seats at the Star Theatre, 
where the English actor was to appear, and refused to 
sell them to the public except at exorbitant, and, for 
many play-goers, prohibitive rates. So far as "work- 
should it be made apparent that a similai' conclusion has been arrived atby 
the exercise of independent judgment, and if in pronouncing it fresh light 
is thrown upon the disputed points of theatrical controversy." 



44 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

ing " went the London enemies of the Lyceum manager 
were so actively represented in New York that his 
friends in the Empire city must have felt a trifle chilled 
at the outlook. The operations of the ticket specu- 
lators, it must, however, be admitted, seemed to pro- 
ject in Irving's path the most formidable of all the 
other obstacles. 

III. 

But Irving's ship is sailing on through the darkness 
while I have been making this "aside," and the "Black- 
bird " is in motion ; for I hear the swish of the river, 
and the lights on shore are dancing by the port-holes. 
Mr. Abbey's fine military band, from the Metropolitan 
Opera House, has come on board ; so also has a band 
of waiters from the Brunswick. Breakfast is being 
spread in the saloon. The brigands from the ladies' 
cabin have laid aside their slouch hats and cloaks. 
They look as harmless and as amiable as any company 
of English journalists. Night and dark-lanterns 
might convert the mildest-mannered crowd into the 
appearance of a pirate crew. 

I wish the Irving guest of my first chapter could see 
and talk to these interviewers. I learn that they 
represent journals at Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago, 
St. Louis, and other cities besides New York. One 
of them has interviewed Lord Coleridge ; another was 
with Grant during the war ; a third was with Lee. 
They have all had interesting experiences. One is an 
Englishman ; another hails from " bonnie Scotland." 
There is no suggestion of rowdyism among them. I 



NEW YOBK. 45 

owe them an apology on the " excuse accuse " 
principle, for saying these things ; but the " inter- 
viewer " is not understood in England ; he is 
often abused in America, and I should like to do him 
justice. These gentlemen of the press who are going 
out to meet Irving are reporters. Socially they occupy 
the lowest station of journalism, though their work is 
of primary importance. Intellectually they are capable 
men, and the best of them write graphically, and with 
an artistic sense of the picturesque. They should, and 
no doubt do, develop into accomplished and power- 
ful journalists ; for theirs is the best of education. They 
study mankind ; they come in contact with the most 
prominent of American statesmen ; they talk with all 
great foreigners who visit the United States ; they are 
admitted into close intercourse with the leading spirits 
of the age ; they have chatted on familiar terms with 
Lincoln, Sheridan, Grant, Garfield, Huxley, Coleridge, 
Arnold, Patti, Bernhardt, Nilsson, and they will 
presently have added to the long list of their per- 
sonal acquaintances Irving and Miss Terry. They are 
travellers, and, of necessity, observers. Their press- 
card is a talisman that opens to them all doors of 
current knowledge ; and I am bound to say that these 
men on board the "Blackbird" are, in conversation 
and manners, quite worthy of the trust reposed in 
them by the several great journals which they 
represent. 



46 IMPEESSIONS OF AMERICA, 



IV. 

" ^ Britannic ' ahead ! " shouts a voice from the srang:- 
way. We clamber on deck. It is daylight. The air is 
still keen. The wooded shores of Staten island are brown 
with the last tints of autumn. Up the wide reaches of 
the river, an arm of the great sea, come all kinds of 
craft ; some beating along under sail ; others, floating 
palaces, propelled by steam. These latter are ferry- 
boats and passenger steamers. You have seen them 
in many a marine picture and panorama of American 
travel. The "Blackbird" is typical of the rest, — 
double decks, broad saloons, tiers of berths, ladies' 
cabins, and every ceiling packed with life-buoys in 
case of accident. We push along through the 
choppy water, our steam-whistle screaming hoarse 
announcements of our course. The " Britannic " lies 
calmly at quarantine, the stars and stripes at her 
topmast, the British flag at her stern. She is an 
impressive picture, — her masts reaching up into the 
gray sky, every rope taut, her outlines sharp and firm. 
In the distance other ocean steamers glide towards us, 
attended by busy tugs and handsome launches. One 
tries to compare the scene with the IMersey and the 
Thames, and the only likeness is in the ocean steamers, 
which have come thence across the seas. For the rest, 
the scene is essentially American, — the broad river, 
the gay Avooden villas ashore, the brown hills, the 
bright steam craft on the river, the fast rig of the 
trading schooners ; and above all the stars and 
stripes of the many flags that flutter in the breeze, 



NEW YORK. 47 

and the triumphant eagles that extend their goklcn 
wings over the loft j steerage turrets of tug and floating 
palace. 

Now we are alongside the " Britannic." As our 
engines stop, the band of thirty Italians on our deck 
strikes up " God save the Queen." One or two 
British hands instinctively raise one or two British hats, 
and many a heart, I am sure, on board the " Britannic " 
beats the quicker under the influence of the familiar 
strains. A few emigrants, with unkempt hair, on 
the after deck, gaze open-mouthed at the " Blackbird." 
Several early risers appear forward and greet with 
waving hands the welcoming crowd from New York. 
One has time to note the weather-beaten color of the 
'^ Britannic's" funnels. 

"What sort of a passage ? " cries a voice, shouting in 
competition with the wind that is blowing hard through 
the rigging. 

"Pretty rough," is the answer. 

" Where is Mr. Irving?" cries out another "Black- 
bird" passenger. 

" In bed," is the response. 

" Oh ! " says the interrogator, amidst a general laugh. 

"Beg pardon, no," presently shouts the man on the 
" Britannic," — " he's shaving." 

Another laugh, drowned by a salute of some neigh- 
boring guns. At this moment a boat is lowered from the 
splendid yacht " Yosemite," which has been steaming 
round about the " Britannic " for some time. It is Mr. 
Tilden's vessel. He has lent it to Mr. Lawrence 
Barrett and Mr. William Florence. They have come 



48 IMPEESSIONS OF. AMERICA. 

out to meet Irving and ^liss Terry, with a view to 
carry them free from worry or pressure to their several 
hotels. The two well-known actors are in the yacht's 
pinnace, and some of us wonder if they are good sail- 
ors. The waves which do not stir the "Britannic," 
and only gently move the "Blackbird," fairly toss the 
" Yosemite's " boat ; but the occupants appear to be 
quite at home in her. She disappears around the 
" Britannic's " bows to make the port side for boarding, 
and as she does so Mr. Irving suddenly appears be- 
tween the gangway and the ship's boats, on a level 
with the deck of the "Blackbird" about midships. 
" There he is I " shout a score of voices. He looks 
pale in the cold, raw light ; but he smiles pleasantly, 
and takes off a felt bowler hat as the " Blackbird " gives 
him a cheer of welcome. 

" Won't you come here ? The quarantine authorities 
object to our visiting the ship until the doctor has 
left her." 

A plank is thrust from our paddle-box, Irving climbs 
the " Britannic's " bulwark, and grasps a hand held out 
to steady him as he clambers aboard the "Blackbird" 
risrht in the midst of the interviewers. Shaklnor hands 
with his manager, Mr. Abbey, and others, he is intro- 
duced to some of the pressmen, who scan his face and 
figure with undisguised interest. By this time Messrs. 
Barrett and Florence appear on the "Britannic." They 
have got safely out of their boat and have a breezy and 
contented expression in their eyes. Irving now recrosses 
the temporary gangway, and is fairly embraced by his 
two American friends. The band strikes up, "Hail to 



NEW YORK. 49 

the Chief ! " Then the gentlemen of the press are 
invited to join Mr. Irving on board the " Yosemite." 
They are arrested by what one of them promptly desig- 
nates " a vision of pre-Raphaclitish beauty." It is 
Miss Ellen Terry. ^ Every hat goes oft' as she comes 
gayly through the throng. "Portia, on a trip from the 
Venetian seas ! " exclaims an enthusiastic young jour- 
nalist, endeavoring to cap the assthetic compliment of his 
neighbor. Escorted by Mr. Barrett, and introduced by 
Mr. Irving, she is deeply moved, as well she may be, 
by the novel scene. " Britannic " passengers crowd 
about her to say good-by ; the band is playing " Rule, 
Britannia" ; many a gay river boat and steamer is navi- 
gating the dancing waters ; the sun is shining, flags flut- 
tering, and a score of hands are held out to help Portia 
down the gangway on board the "Yosemite," which is 
as trim and bright and sturdy in its way as a British 
gun-boat. While the heroine of the trip is taking her 
seat on deck, and kissing her hand to the " Britannic," 
the " Yosemite " drives ahead of the ocean steamer. 
Idv. Irving goes down into the spacious cabin, which 

iThe "Tribune's" reporter drew Miss Terry's picture with studied 
elaboration : — 

" As she stepped Avith a pretty little shudder over the swaying plank upon 
the j^acht she showed herself possessed of a marked individuality. Ilcr 
dress consisted of a dark greenish-brown cloth wrap, lined inside with a 
peculiar shade of red ; the inner di-ess, girt at the waist with a red, loosely 
folded sash, seemed a reminiscence of some eighteenth-century portrait, 
while the delicate complexion caught a rosy reflection from the loose flame- 
colored red scarf tied in a bow at the neck. The face itself is a peculiar 
one. Though not by ordinaiy canons beautiful, it is nevertheless one to be 
remembered, and seems to have been modelled on that of some pre- 
Baphaclitish saint, — an effect heightened by the aureole of soft golden hair 
escaping from under the plain brown straw and brown velvet hat. 



50 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

is crowded with the gentlemen against whose sharp 
and inquisitive interrogations he has been so persist- 
ently warned. 

V. 

"Well, gentlemen, you want to talk to me," he 
says, lighting a cigar, and offering his case to his near- 
est neighbors. 

The reporters look at him and smile. They have 
had a brief consultation as to which of them shall open 
the business, but without coming to any definite 
arrangement. Irving, scanning the kindly faces, is no 
doubt smiling inwardly at the picture which his Lon- 
don friend had drawn of the interviewers. He is the 
least embarrassed of the company. Nobody seems 
inclined to talk ; yet every movement of Irving invites 
interrogatory attack. 

" A little champagne, gentlemen," suggests Mr. 
Florence, pushing his way before the ship's steward 
and waiters. 

"And chicken," says Irving, smiling; "that is how 
we do it in London, they say." 

This point is lost, however, upon the reporters, a 
few of whom sip their champagne, but not with any- 
thing like fervor. They have been waiting many hours 
to interview Irving, and they want to do it. I fancy 
they are afraid of each other. 

"Now, gentlemen," says Irving, "time flies, and I 
have a dread of you. I have looked forward to this 
meeting, not without pleasure, but with much appre- 
hension. Don't ask me how I like America at present. 



NEW YORK. 51 

I shall, I am sure ; and I think the bay superb. There, 
I place myself at your mercy. Don't spare me." 

Everybody laughs. Barrett and Florence look on 
curiously. Bram Stoker, Mr. Irving's acting mana- 
ger, cannot disguise his anxiety. Loveday, his stage- 
manao^er and old friend, is amused. He has heard 
many curious things about America from his brother 
George, who accompanied the famous English come- 
dian, Mr. J. L. Toole (one of Irving's oldest, and 
perhaps his most intimate, friend), on his American 
tour. Neither Loveday nor Stoker has ever crossed 
the Atlantic before. They liave talked of it, and 
pictured themselves steaming up the North river into 
New York many a time ; but they find their forecast 
utterly unlike the original. 

"What about his mannerisms?" says one reporter 
to another. "I notice nothing strange, nothing outre 
either in his speech or walk." 

"He seems perfectly natural to me," the other re- 
plies ; and it is this first " revelation " that has evidently 
tongue-tied the " reportorial " company. They have 
read so mucli about the so-called eccentricities of the 
English visitor's personality that they cannot over- 
come their surprise at finding themselves addressed by 
a o-entleman whose o;race of manner reminds them 
rather of the polished ease of Lord Coleridge than 
of the bizarre figure with which caricature, pictorially 
and otherwise, has familiarized them. 

"We are all very glad to see you, sir, and to wel- 
come you to New York," says one of the interviewers, 
presently. 



52 IMFEESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

"Thank you with all my heart," says Irving. 

"And we would like to ask you a few questions, and 
to have you talk about your plans in this country. 
You open in ^ The Bells, ' — that was one of your first 
great successes ? " 

"Yes." 

" You will produce your plays here just in the same 
way as in London? " chimes in a second interviewer. 

" With the same effects, and, as far as possible, 
with the same cast ? " 

"Yes." 

"And what are your particular effects, for instance, 
in ^ The Bells ' and ' Louis XL,' say, as regard mount- 
ing and lighting?" 

" Well, gentlemen," answers Irving, laying aside 
his cigar and folding his arms, "I will explain. In 
the first place, in visiting America, I determined I 
would endeavor to do justice to myself, to the theatre, 
and to you. I was told I might come alone as a star, 
or I might come with a few members of my company, 
and that I would be sure to make money. That did 
not represent any part of my desire in visiting 
America. The pleasure of seeing the New World, the 
ambition to win its favor and its friendship, and to show 
it some of the work we do at the Lyceum, — these 
are my reasons for being here. I have, therefore, 
brought my company and my scenery. Miss Ellen 
Terry, one of the most perfect and charming actresses 
that ever graced the English stage, consented to sliare 
our fortunes in this great enterprise ; so I bring you 
almost literally the Lyceum Theatre." 



NEW YOBK, 53 

"How many artists, sir?" 

" Oh, counting the entire company and staff, some- 
where between sixty and seventy, I suppose. Fifty 
of them have ah-eady arrived here in the 'City of 
Eome.'" 

" In what order do you produce your pieces here ? " 

"'The Bells,' 'Charles,' 'The Lyons Mail,' 'The 
Merchant of Venice,' we do first," 

" Have you any particular reason for the sequence of 
them?" 

"My idea is to produce my Lyceum successes in 
their order, as they were done in London ; 1 thought 
it would be interesting to show the series one after the 
other in that way." 

" When do you play 'Hamlet? '" 

" On my return to New York in the spring." 

" Any special reason for that ? " 

"A managerial one. We propose to keep one or 
two novelties for our second visit. Probably we shall 
reserve 'Much Ado' as well as 'Hamlet.' Moreover, 
a month is too short a time for us to 2:et through our 
repertoire." 

" In which part do you think you most excel ? " 

"Which do you like most of all your range of 
characters ? " 

"What is your opinion of Mr. Booth as an actor? " 

These questions come from different parts of the 
crowd. It reminds me of the scene between an 
English parliamentary candidate and a caucus con- 
stituency, with the exception that the American 
questioners are quite friendly and respectful, tlieir chief 



54 IMPRESSIONS OF. AMERICA. 

desire evidently being to give Mr. Irving texts upon 
which he can speak with interest to their readers. 

"Mr. Booth and I are warm friends. It is not 
necessary to tell you that he is a great actor. I acted 
with him many subordinate parts when he first came to 
England, about twenty years ago." 

" What do you think is his finest impersonation ? " 

"I would say ^ Lear,' though I believe the Ameri- 
can verdict would be 'Richelieu.' Singularly enough 
* Richelieu' is not a popular play in England. Mr. 
Booth's mad scene in 'Lear,' I am told, is superb. 
I did not see it ; but I can speak of Othello and 
lago : both are fine performances." 

"You played in 'Othello' with Mr. Booth in 
London you say ? " 

" I produced ' Othello ' especially for Mr. Booth, 
and played lago for the first time on that occasion. 
We afterwards alternated the parts." 

" Shakespeare is popular in England, — more so now 
than for some years past, I believe ? " 

"Yes." 

" What has been the motive-power in this revival ? " 

"England has to-day many Shakespearian societies, 
and our countrymen read the poet much more than they 
did five and twenty years ago. As a rule our fathers 
obtained their knowledge of him from the theatre, and 
were often, of course, greatly misled as to the meaning 
and intention of the poet, under the manipulation of 
Colley Gibber and others." 

" Which of Shakespeare's plays is most popular in 
England?" 



NEW YOBK. 55 



" ^ Hamlet.' And, singularly, the next one is not 
' Julius Cassar,' which is the most popular after * Ham- 
let,' I believe, in your country. ^Othello' might 
possibly rank second with us, if it were not difficult to 
get two equally good actors for the two leading parts. 
Salvini's Othello, for instance, suffered because the 
lago was weak." 

" You don't play ^ Julius Cassar,' then, in England? " 

"No. There is a difficulty in filling worthily the 
three leading parts." 

By this time Mr. Irving is on the most comfortable 
and familiar terms with the gentlemen of the press. 
He has laid aside his cigar, and smiles often with a 
curious and amused expression of face. 

" You must find this kind of work, this interviewing, 
very difficult," he says, presently, in a tone of friendly 
banter. 

"Sometimes," answers one of them; and they all 
laugh, entering into the spirit of the obvious fun of a 
victim who is not suffering half as much as he expected 
to do, and who indeed, is, on the whole, very well 
satisfied with himself. 

" Don't you think we might go on deck now and see 
the harbor?" he asks. 

"Oh, yes," they all say; and in a few minutes the 
"Yosemite's" pretty saloon is vacated. 

Mr. Irving and his friends go forward ; Miss Terry 
is aft, in charge of Mr. Barrett. She is looking intently 
down the river at the far-off " Britannic," which is now 
beorinnins: to move forward in our wake, the " Yosemite" 

DO ' 

leavinsj behind her a long, white track of foam. 



56 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

The interviewers are again busily engaged with 
Mr. Irving. He is once more the centre of an inter- 
ested group of men. Not one of them takes a note. 
They seem to be putting all he says down in their 
minds. They are accustomed to tax their memories. 
One catches, in the expression of their faces, evidence 
of something like an inter-vision. They seem to be 
ticking off, in their minds, the points as the speaker 
makes them ; for Irving now appears to be talking as 
much for his own amusement as for the public instruc- 
tion. He finds that he has a quick, intelligent, and 
attentive audience, and the absence of note-books and 
anything like a show of machinery for recording his 
words puts him thoroughly at his ease. Then he likes 
to talk " shop " ; as who does not ? And what is more 
delightful to hear than experts on their own work ? 

" Do your American audiences applaud much ? " he 



"Yes," they said; "oh, yes." 

"Because, you know, your Edwin Forrest once 
stopped in the middle of a scene and addressed his 
audience on the subject of their silence. ' You must 
applaud,' he said, 'or I cannot act.' I quite sympa- 
thize with that feeling. An actor needs applause. It 
is liis life and soul when he is on the stage. The enthu- 
siasm of the audience reacts upon him. He gives 
them back heat for heat. If they are cordial he is 
encouraged ; if they are excited so is he ; as they 
respond to his efforts he tightens his grip upon their 
imagination and emotions. You have no pit in your 
American theatres, as we have ; that is, your stalls, or 



NEW YORK. 57 

parquet, cover the entire floor. It is to the quick feel- 
ings and heartiness of the pit and gallery that an actor 
looks for encouragement during his great scenes in 
England. Our stalls are appreciative, but not demon- 
strative. Our pit and gallery are both." 

Irving, when particularly moved, likes to tramp 
about. Whenever the situation allows it he does so 
upon the stage. Probably recalling the way in which pit 
and gallery rose at him — and stalls and dress-circle, 
too, for that matter — on his farewell night at the 
Lyceum, he paces about the deck, all the interviewers 
making rapid mental note of his gait, and watching for 
some startling peculiarity that does not manifest itself. 

" He has not got it ; why, the man is as natural and 
as straight and capable as a man can be," says one to 
another. 

" And a real good fellow," is the response. " Ask 
him about Yanderbilt and the mirror." 

"O Mr. Irving ! — just one more question." 

" As many as you like, my friend," is the ready reply. 

"Is it true that you are to be the guest of Mr. 
Vanderbilt?" 

" And be surrounded with ingeniously constructed 
mirrors, where I can see myself always, and all at once? 
E have heard strange stories about INIr. Yanderbilt hav- 
ing had a wonderful mirror of this kind constructed for 
my use, so that I may pose before it in all my loveliest 
attitudes. Something of the kind has been said, eh?" 
he asks, laughing. 

" Oh, yes, that is so," is the mirthful response. 

" Then you may contradict it, if you will. You may 



58 IMFBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

say that I am here for work ; that I shall have no time 
to be any one's guest, though I hope the day may come 
when I shall have leisure to visit my friends. You may 
add, if you will" (here he lowered his voice with a little 
air of mystery) , " that I always carry a mirror of my 
own about with me wherever I go, because I love to 
pose and contemplate my lovely figure whenever the 
opportunity offers." 

"That will do, I guess," says a gentleman of the 
interviewing staff; "thank you, Mr. Irving, for your 
courtesy and information." 

" I am obliged to you very much," he says, and then, 
havins^ his attention directed to the first view of New 
York, expresses his wonder and delight at the scene, 
as well he may. 

Ahead the towers and spires of New York stand out 
in a picturesque outline against the sky. On either 
hand the water-line is fringed with the spars of ships 
and steamers. On the left stretches far away the low- 
lying shore of New Jersey ; on the right, Brooklyn 
can be seen, rising upwards, a broken line of roofs and 
steeples. Further away, joining "the city of churches " 
to Manhattan, hangs in mid-air that marvel of science, 
the triple carriage, foot, and rail road known as the 
Brooklyn bridge. Around the "Yosemite," as she 
ploughs along towards her quay, throng many busy 
steamers, outstrippiug, in the race for port, fleets of 
sailing vessels that are beating up the broad reaches of 
the river before the autumn wind. 



NEW YORK. 59 

VI. 

" She is not quite pretty," says a New York reporter, 
turning to me during his contemplation of Miss Terry, 
who is very picturesque as she sits by the tafFrail at the 
stern ; " but she is handsome, and she is distinguished. 
I tliink we would like to ask her a few questions ; will 
you introduce us ? " 

I do tlie honors of this presentation. Miss Terry is 
too much under the influence of the wonderful scene 
that meets her gaze to receive the reporters with calm- 
ness. 

" And this is New York ! " she exclaims. " What a 
surprising place I And, oh, what a river ! So different 
to the Thames ! And to think that I am in New York ! 
It does not seem possible. I cannot realize it." 

" If you had a message to send home to your friends. 
Miss Terry, what would it be? " asks Reporter No. 1, 
a more than usually bashful young man. 

The question is a trifle unfortunate. 

" Tell them I never loved home so well as now," she 
answers, in her frank, impulsive way. 

She turns her head away to hide her tears, and Re- 
porter No. 2 remonstrates with his companion. 

'^I wouldn't have said it for anything," says No. 1. 
"I was thinking how I would add a few words for 
her to my I^ondon cable, — that's a fact." 

"It is very foolish of me, pray excuse me," says the 
lady ; " it is all so new and strange. I know my eyes 
are red, and this is not the sort of face to go into New 
York with, is it?" 



60 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA, 

"I think New York will be quite satisfied, Miss 
Terry," says a third reporter ; " but don't let us distress 
you." 

" Oh, no, I am quite myself now. You want to ask 
me some questions ? " 

"Not if you object." 

" I don't object ; only you see one has been looking 
forward to this day a long time, and seeing land again 
and houses, and so many ships, and New Yorji itself, 
may well excite a stranger." 

"Yes, indeed, that is so," remarks No. 1, upon 
whom she turns quickly, the "Liberty" scarf at her neck 
flying in the wind, and her earnest eyes flashing. 

" Have you ever felt Avhat it is to be a stranger just 
entering a strange land? If not you can hardly realize 
my sensations. Not that I have any fears about my 
reception. No, it is not that ; the Americans on the 
ship were so kind to me, and you are so very consid- 
erate, that I am sure everybody ashore will be friendly." 

" Do you know Miss Anderson ? " 

" Yes. She is a beautiful woman. I have not seen 
her upon the stage ; but I have met her." 

"Do you consider ' Charles 1.' will present you to a 
New York audience in one of your best characters ? " 

" No ; and I am not very fond of the part of Henrietta 
Maria either." 

" What are your favorite characters ? " 

"Oh, I hardly know," she says, now fairly interested 
in the conversation ; and turning easily towards her 
questioners, for the first time, " I love nearly all I play ; 
but I don't like to cry, and I cannot help it in ' Charles 



NEW YORK, Gl 

1/ I like comedy best, — Portia, Beatrice, andLetitia 
Hardy." 

"Do you intend to star on your own account ? " 

"No, no." 

" You prefer to cast your fortunes with the Lyceum 
company ? " 

"Yes, certainly. Sufficient for the day is the 
Lyceum thereof. There is no chance of my ever de- 
siring to change. I am devoted to the Lyceum, and 
to Mr. Irving. No one admires him more than I do ; 
no one knows better, I think, how much he has done 
for our art ; no one dreams of how much more he will 
yet do if he is spared. I used to think, when I was 
with Charles Kean, — I served my apprenticeship, you 
know, with Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kean, — that his 
performances and mounting of plays were perfect in 
their way. But look at Mr. Irving's work ; look at 
what he has done and what he does. I am sure you 
will be delighted with him. Excuse me, is that the 
'Britannic' yonder, following in our wake?" 

"Yes." 

She kisses her hand to the vessel, and then turns to 
wonder at the city, which seems to be coming towards 
us, so steadily does the " Yosemite " glide along, 
hardly suggesting motion. 

Then suddenly the word is passed that the " Yosemite " 
is about to land her passengers. A few minutes later 
she slips alongside the wharf at the foot of Canal street. 
The reporters take their leave, raising their hats to 
Miss Terry, many of them shaking hands with INIr. 
Irving. Carriages are in waiting for Mr. Barrett and 



62 - IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

his party. A small crowd, learning who the new- 
comers were, give them a cheer of welcome, and 
Henrj Irving and Ellen Terry stand upon American 
soil. 

" I am told," says Mr. Irving, as we drive away, 
" that when Jumbo arrived in New York he put out his 
foot and felt if the ground was solid enough to bear his 
weight. The New Yorkers, I believe, were very much 
amused at that. They have a keen sense of fun. 
Where are we going now ? " 

"To the Customs, at the White Star wharf, to sign 
your declaration papers," says Mr. Florence. 

"How many packages have you in your state-room, 
madame?" asks a sturdy official, addressing Miss 
Terry. 

" Well, really I don't know ; three or four, I think." 

"Not more than that?" suo^s^ests Mr. Barrett. 

C3C3 

"Perhaps five or six." 

" Not any more ? " asks the official. " Shall I say 
five or six ? " 

"Well, really, I cannot say. Where's my maid? 
Is it important, — the exact number? " 

There is a touch of bewilderment in her manner 
which amuses the officials, and everybody laughs — she 
herself very heartily — when her maid says there are 
fourteen packages of various kinds in the state-room 
of the "Britannic," which is now discharging her 
passengers. A scene of bustle and excitement is 
developing just as we are permitted to depart. A 
famous politician is on board. There is a procession, 
with a band of music, to meet him. Crowds of poor 



NEW YORK. 63 

people are pushing forward for the " Britannic " gang- 
way to meet a crowd of still poorer emigrant friends. 
Imposing equipages are here to carry off the rich and 
prosperous travellers. Tons of portmanteaus, trunks, 
boxes, baggage of every kind, are sliding from the ves- 
sel's side upon the quay. Friends are greeting friends. 
Children are being hugged by fathers and mothers. 
Ship's stewards are hurrying to and fro. The express- 
man, jingling his brass checks, is looking for business ; 
his carts are fighting their way among the attendant 
carriages and more ponderous wagons. A line of 
Custom-House men form in line, a living cord of blue 
and silver, across the roadway exit of the wharf. There 
is a smell of tar and coffee and baked peanuts in the 
atmosphere, together with the sound of many voices ; 
and the bustle repeats itself outside in the rattle of arriv- 
ing and departing carts and carriages. Above all one 
hears the pleasant music of distant car-bells. We 
dash along, over level crossings, past very continental- 
looking river-side cabarets and rum-shops, under 
elevated railroads, and up streets that recall Holland, 
France, Brighton, and Liverpool, until we reach 
Washington square. The dead leaves of autumn are 
beo^innin^x to hide the fadina^ ffrass ; but the sun is 
shining gloriously away up in a blue sky. Irving is 
impressed with the beauty of the city as we enter Fiftli 
avenue, its many spires marking the long line of street 
as far as the eye can see. The Brevoort House has 
proved a welcome, if expensive, haven of rest to many 
a weary traveller. To-day its bright windows and green 
sun-blinds, its white marble steps, and its wholesome 



64 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

aspect of homelike comfort, suggest the pleasantest 
possibilities. 

Let us leave the latest of its guests to his first 
experiences of the most hotel-keeping nation in the 
world. 



FIB ST IMPRESSIONS, 65 



m. 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 

Union Squai«e, New York — An Enterprising Chronicler — The Lambs — 
The Newspapers and the New-comers — " Art Must Advance with the 
Times " — *' Romeo and Juliet " at the Lyceum — " Character Parts " — 
No Real Tradition of Shakespearian Acting — "Mannerisms" — The 
Stage as an Educator — Lafayette Place — A Notable Little Dinner — 
The Great American Bird, " Not the Eagle, but the Duck " — A Ques- 
tion of " Appropriate Music " — Speculators in Tickets and their Enor- 
mous Profits — Middlemen, the Star Theatre, and the Play -going 
PubKc. 

I. 

" It is not like my original idea of it, so far," said 
Irving, the next morning, — " this city of New York. 
The hotel, the Fifth avenue, the people, — everything 
is a little different to one's anticipations ; and yet it 
seems to me that I have seen it all before. It is Lon- 
don and Paris combined. I have been 'round to call 
on Miss Terry. She is at what she calls * The Hotel — 
ahem!' — the Hotel Dam, in Union square. Dam is 
the proprietor. It is a handsome house. A fine 
square. The buildings are very tall. The cars, run- 
ning along the streets, their many bells, the curious 
wire-drawn look of the wheels of private carriages, — 
all a little odd. Fifth avenue is splendid ! And what 
a glorious sky ! " 

He rattled on, amused and interested, as he stood in 
the back room of his suite of three on the ground floor 
at the Brevoort. 



66 IMPRESSIONS OE AMERICA. 

" Several interviewers in there," he said, pointing to 
the folcling-doors that shut us out from the other apart- 
ment. "One reporter wanted to attend regularly, and 
chronicle all I did, — where I went to, and how ; what 
I ate, and when ; he wished to have a record of every- 
body who called, what they said, and what I said to 
them." 

"An enterprising chronicler ; probably a * liner,' as we 
should call him on the other side, — a liner unattached." 

" He was very civil. I thanked him, and made him 
understand that I am modest, and do not like so much 
attention as he suggests. But these other gentlemen, 
let us see them together." 

It was very interesting to hear Irving talk to his 
visitors, one after the other, about his art and his work. 
I had never seen him in such good conversational form 
before. So far from resisting his interrogators, he 
enjoyed their questions, and, at the same time, often 
puzzled them with his answers. Some of his visitors 
came with minds free and unprejudiced to receive his 
impressions ; with pens ready to record them. Others 
had evidently read up for the interview ; they had turned 
over the pages of Hazlitt, Lamb, and Shakespeare with 
a purpose. Others had clearly studied the ingenious 
pamphlet of Mr. Archer; these had odd questions to 
ask, and were amazed at the quickness of Irving's re- 
partee. As a rule they reported the new-comer cor- 
rectly. The mistakes they made were trivial, though 
some of them might have seemed important in preju- 
diced eyes. I propose, presently, to give an example 
of this journalistic work. 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 67 

After dinner Mr. Irving went to a quiet little re- 
ception at the house of a friend, and at night he 
visited the Lambs Club. The members are princi- 
pally actors, and Sunday night is their only holiday. 
Once a month they dine together. On this night they 
held their first meeting of the season. The rooms were 
crowded. IrviuGi; was welcomed with three cheers. 
Mr. William Florence, jNIr. Raymond, Mr. Henry Ed- 
wards, Mr. Howson, and other well-known actors 
introduced him to their brother members, and a com- 
mittee was at once formed to arrange a date when the 
club could honor itself and its guest with a special 
dinner. 

" It is very delightful to be so cordially received," 
said Irving, " by my brother actors. I shall be 
proud to accept your hospitality on any evening 
that is convenient to you. It must be on a Sunday, 
of course. I am told New York is strict in its observ- 
ance of Sunday. Well, I am glad of it, — it is the 
actor's only day of rest." 



II. 

On Monday morning the newspapers, from one end 
of the United States to the other, chronicled the arrival 
of Mr. Irving and Miss Terry. The New York jour- 
nals rivalled each other in columns of bright descrip- 
tive matter, with headings in more than customary 
detail. The "Herald" commenced its announcement 
in this way : — 



68 IMPEESSIONS OE^ AMEBICA. 

IRVING — TERRY. 



Arrival of the Famous English Actor and the Leading Lady 
of the Lyceum. 



A Hearty Welcome Down the Bay by Old Friends. 



AN INTERVIEW WITH MR. IRVING. 



His Views on the Drama and Stage of To-day. 



PLANS FOR THE FUTURE. 
The " Sun " greeted its readers with, — 
UP EARLY TO MEET IRVING! 



A BUSINESS-LIKE HMILET AND A JOLLY OPHELIA 
ARRIVE. 



Wliat the Famous English Actor Looks Like, and How He 

Talks — A Stentorian Greeting Down at 

Quarantine before Breakfast. 

The " Morning Journal " (the latest success in cheap 
newspaper enterprise) proclaimed: — 

ENGLAND'S GREAT ACTOR. 



Henry Irving Cordially Welcomed in the Lower Bay. 



He Tells of His Hopes and Fears, and Expresses Delight 

over Dreaded Newspaper Interviewers — 

Miss Terry Joyful. 



FIB ST IMPRESSIONS. G9 

A leading Western journal pays a large salary to a 
clever member of its staff, whose duty is confined to 
the work of giving to the varied news of the day 
attractive titles. The New York press is less exuberant 
in this direction than formerly. 

The sketches of the arrival of the "Britannic's" 
passengers are bright and personal. They describe 
the appearance of Mr. Irving and Miss Terry. 
The vivacity of Miss Terry charmed the reporters. 
The quiet dignity of Irving surprised and impressed 
them. The " interviews " generally referred to Mr. 
Irving's trip across the Atlantic; his programme for 
New York ; his hopes of a successful tour ; his ideas 
of the differences between American and Emrlish 
theatres ; what he thought of Booth, and other points 
which I have myself set forth, perhaps more in detail 
than was possible for the journals, and, what is more 
important, from the platform of an interested English 
spectator. The following conversation is, in the main, 
a revised edition of an interview that appeared in 
the "Herald." 

" And now to speak to you of yourself as an actor, 
and also of your theatre, — let me ask you, to what 
mainly do you attribute your success ? " 

" The success I have made, such as it is, has been 
made by acting — by acting alone, whether good or 
bad." 1 

1 These simple focts prove that, aside from his acting, with Avhich it is 
not our duty to deal at present, Mr. Irving is one of the most remarkable 
men of this or any other age. But he is unquestionably right when he 
asserts that he owes his success to his acting alone. It has been said that the 
splendid manner in which he puts his plays upon the stage is the secret of his 



70 IMPEESSIONS OF AMEBIOA. 

"There is a notion in America, Mr. Irving, that 
your extraordinary success is due to your mise en scene 
and the research you have given to the proper mount- 
ing of your pieces." 

"Indeed, is that so? And yet 'The Cup' and 
' Romeo and Juliet ' were the only two pieces I have 
done in which the mise en scene has been really 
remarkable. During my early association with the 
Lyceum nothing of that kind was attempted. For 
instance, the church-yard scene in 'Hamlet' was a 
scene painted for ' Eugene. Aram,' as the then manager 
of the Lyceum (my old friend, Mr. Bateman) , did 
not believe in the success of ' Hamlet.' The run of 
the play was two hundred nights. I have been asso- 
ciated with the Lyceum since 1871, eleven years, and, 
until the production of 'The Corsican Brothers' and 
'The Cup,' in 1880-1881, no play in which I acted 

popularity ; but he first became popular in plays which were not splendidly 
mounted, and his greatest financial and artistic successes have been made 
in pieces upon which he expended no unusual decorations. It has been 
said that INIanager Bateman made Irving ; but, as we shall presently prove, 
Irving made Manager Bateman in London, and has been doubly successful 
since Manager Bateman's death. It has been said that his leading lady, 
Ellen Teriy, is the Mascot of Irving's career; but his fame was established 
before Miss Terry joined his company, and lie has won his proudest laurels 
in the plays in which Miss Terry has not appeared. It has been said that 
the financial backing of the Baroness Burdett-Coutts gave Irving his oppor- 
tunity ; but he had been overcrowding the I^ondon Lyceum for years be- 
fore he made the acquaintance of the Baroness. No ; the unprecedented 
and unrivalled success of Mr, Irving has been made by himself alone. He 
became popular as an actor in a stock company ; his popularity transformed 
him into a star and a manager ; and, as a star and a manager, he has widened, 
deepened, and improved his popularity. He has won his position fairly, by 
his own talents and exertions, against overwhelming odds, and he has 
nobody to thank for it but himself, in spite of the theories which we have 
exploded. — xS/jinYr/ the Times, New York. Oct. 27, 1SS3. 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 71 

liad ever been elaborately mounted. Before the time 
of these plays I had acted in 'The Bells,' ' Charles I.,' 
'Eugene Aram,' ' Philip,' 'Eichelieu,' 'Hamlet,' 'Mac- 
beth,' 'Louis XI.,' 'Othello,' 'Eichard III.,' 'The 
Merchant of Venice,' ' The Iron Chest,' and others ; 
and this, I think, is sufficient answer to the statement 
that my success has, in any way, depended upon the 
mounting of plays. When I played ' Hamlet,' under 
my own management, which commenced in December, 
1878, 1 produced it with great care ; and many things, 
in the way of costume and decoration, which had been 
before neglected, I endeavored to amend. But take, 
for instance, 'The Merchant of Venice,' — it was put 
upon the stage in twenty-three days." 

" It will be impossible for managers to go back to 
the bad system of mounting formerly in vogue, will it 
not?" 

"I think so. Indeed, it is impossible for the stage 
to go back to what it was in any sense. Art must 
advance with the times, and with the advance of other 
arts there must necessarily be an advance of art as 
applied to the stage. In arranging the scenery for 
'Romeo and Juliet' I had in view not only the pro- 
ducing of a beautiful picture, but the illustration of 
the text. Every scene I have done adds to the poetry 
of the piny. It is not done for the sake of effect 
merely, hyxt to add to the glamor of the love story. 
That was my intention, and I think that result was 
attained. I believe everything in a play that heightens 
and assists the imagination, and in no way hampers or 
restrains it, is good, and ouglit to be made use of. I 



72 IMPRESSION'S 0^ AMERICA. 

think you should, in every respect, give the best you 
can. For instance, Edwin Booth and I acted together 
in * Othello.' He alone would have drawn a great 
public ; yet I took as much pains with it as any play I 
ever put upon the stage. I took comparatively as 
much pains with the ' Two Roses ' and the ^ Captain of 
the Watch ' as with ' Eomeo and Juliet.' But there is 
no other play in Shakespeare that seems to me to so 
much require a pictorial setting as ^ Romeo and Juliet.' 
You could not present plays nowadays as they formerly 
did, any more than you could treat them generally as 
they were treated." 

" How did you come to identify yourself so much 
with the revival of Shakespearian acting?" 

" I will try to tell you briefly what I have done since 
I have been before the London public. Much against 
the wish of my friends I took an engagement at the 
Lyceum, then under the management of Mr. 
Bateman. I had successfully acted in many plays 
besides *Two Roses,' which ran three hundred nights. 
It was thought by everybody interested in such matters 
that I ought to identify myself with what they 
called * character parts ' ; though what that phrase 
means, by the way, I never could exactly understand, 
for I have a prejudice in the belief that every part 
should be a character. I always w^antcd to play in the 
higher drama. Even in my boyhood my desire had 
been in that direction. When at the Vaudeville 
Theatre I recited the drama of ' Eugene Aram,' simply 
to get an idea as to whether I could impress an audi- 
ence with a tragic theme. I hoped I could, and at 



FIRST IMPBESSIONS. 73 

once made up my mind to prepare myself to play 
cliaracters of another type. When Mr. Bateman 
engaged me he told me he would give me an oppor- 
tunity, if he could, to play various parts, as it was to 
his interest as much as to mine to discover what he 
thought would be successfid, — though, of course, 
never dreaming of ' Hamlet' or * Richard III.' Well, 
the Lyceum opened, but did not succeed. Mr. Bateman 
had lost a lot of money, and he intended giving it up. 
He proposed to me to go to America with him. By 
my advice, and against his wish, * The Bells ' was 
rehearsed, but he did not believe in it much. He 
thought there was a prejudice against the management, 
and tliat there would probably be a prejudice against 
that sort of romantic play. It produced a very poor 
house, although a most enthusiastic one. From 
that time the theatre prospered. The next piece 
was a great difficulty. It was thought that what- 
ever part I played it must be a villain, associated 
with crime in some way or other ; because I had 
been identified with such sort of characters it was 
thought my forte lay in that direction. I should 
tell you that I had associated histrionically with 
all sorts of bad characters, house-breakers, blacklegs, 
assassins. 'When 'Charles I.' was announced, it was 
said that the bad side of the king'^ character should 
be the one portrayed, not the good, because it would 
be ridiculous to expect me to exhibit any pathos, or to 
give the domestic and loving side of its character. After 
the first night the audience thought differently. Fol- 
lowing 'Charles I.' 'Eugene Aram' was, by Mr. 



74 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Bateman's desire, produced. In this we have a charac- 
ter much like that of Mathias, but with a pathetic side 
to it. Then Mr. Bateman Avished me to play ^ Riche- 
lieu.' I had no desire to do that ; but he continued to 
persuade, and to please him I did it. It ran for a long 
time with great success. What I did play, by my own 
desire, and against his belief in its success, was * Ham- 
let,' for you must know that at that time there was a 
motto among managers, — * Shakespeare spells bank- 
ruptcy.' " 

" What is your method in preparing to put a play on 
the stage, — say one of Shakespeare's; would you be 
guided by the tradition of Shakespearian acting ? " 

" There is no tradition of Shakespearian acting ; nor 
is there anything wTitten down as to the proper way of 
acting Shakespeare. We have the memoirs and the 
biographies of great actors, and we know something 
of their methods ; but it does not amount to a tradition 
or to a school of Shakespearian acting. For instance, 
what is known on the stage of Shakespeare's tradition 
of Richard ? Nothing. The stage tradition is CoUey 
Gibber. * Off with his head, — so much for Bucking- 
ham ! ' is, perhaps, the most familiar line of his text. 
We have had some men who have taken this or that 
great actor as their exemplar ; they have copied him as 
nearly as they could. Actors, to be true, should, I 
think, act for themselves." 

" You would advise an actor, then, to go to the book 
and study the play out for himself, and not take this or 
that character by rote ? " 

" Certainly ; take the book, and work the play out to 



FIBST IMPRESSIONS. 75 

the best of your intelligence. I believe my great safe- 
guard has been that I have always tried to work out a 
character myself. As a boy I never would see a play 
until I had studied it first." 

" That would be an answer to the strictures which 
have been made on you, that you have not kept to the old 
acting versions, but have made versions for yourself?" 

" True ; and why should I not, if I keep, as 1 do, to 
Shakespeare ? For many actors Shakespeare was not 
good enough. A picture which hangs in my rooms 
affords an instance in point. It represents Mr. Holman 
and Miss Brunton in the characters of Romeo and 
Juliet, and gives a quotation from the last scene of 
Act V. Juliet says, ^ You fright me. Speak ; oh, 
let me hear some voice beside my own in this drear 
vault of death ; or I shall faint. Support me.' Romeo 
replies, ^Oh! I cannot. I have no strength, but 
want thy feeble aid. Cruel poison ! ' Not one word 
of which, as you know, is Shakespeare's." 

" You referred just now to the necessity of an actor 
acting * from himself; ' — in other words, not sinking his 
own individuality in the part he is trying to represent ; 
would it not be an answer to those who charge you 
with mannerisms on the stage ? Is it not true, in short, 
that the more strongly individual a man is the more 
pronounced his so-called mannerisms will be ? " 

" Have we not all mannerisms ? I never yet saw a 
human being worth considering without them." 

"I believe you object to spectators being present at 
your rehearsals. What are your reasons for that 
course ? " 



76 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

" There are several, each of which would be a valid 
objection." 

" For instance ? " 

" Well, first of all, it is not fair to author, manager, 
or actor, as the impression given at an incomplete per- 
formance cannot be a correct one." 

" But surely by a trained intellect due allowance can 
be made for shortcomins^s ? " 

"For shortcomings, yes ; but a trained intellect can- 
not see the full value of an effort, perhaps jarred or 
spoiled through some mechanical defect ; or, if the 
trained intellect knows all about it, why needs it to be 
present at all? Now, it seems to me that one must 
have a reason for being present, either business or 
curiosity, and business cannot be properly done, while 
curiosity can w^ait." 

" Another reason ? " 

" It is unjust to the artists. A play to be complete 
must, in all its details, finally pass through one imagina- 
tion. There must be some one intellect to organize 
and control ; and in order that this may be efiected it 
is necessary to experimentalize. Many a thing may be 
shown at rehearsal which is omitted in representa- 
tion. If this be seen, and not explained, a false im- 
pression is created. A loyal company and staiF help 
much to realize in detail and effect the purpose of the 
manager ; but still, all are but individual men and 
women, and no one likes to be corrected or advised 
before strangers . " 

" As to the alleged dearth of good modern English 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 77 

plays, what do you tliink is the cause of their non- 
production ? " 

"I deny the dearth, except so far as there is always 
a dearth of the good things of the world. I hold tliat 
there are good English plays. I could name yOu 
many." 

" What are your opinions of the stage as an educa- 
tional medium ? I ask the question because there is a 
large class of people, both intelligent and cultured, 
who still look upon the stage and stage-plays, even if 
not downright immoral, as not conducive to any intel- 
lectual or moral good." 

"My dear sir, I must refer you to history for an 
answer to that problem. It cannot be solved on the 
narrow basis of one craft or calling. Such ideas are 
due to ignorance. Why, in England, three hundred 
years ago, — in Shakespeare's time, — in the years when 
he, more than any other human being in all that great 
age of venture and development, of search and research, 
was doing much to make the era famous, actors were 
but servants, and the stage was only tolerated by court 
license. A century later, in London city, actors were 
pilloried and the calling deemed vagrancy ; while in 
France a Christian burial was denied to Moliere's 
corpse. The study of social history and development 
teaches a lesson in which you may read your answer. 
When bigotry and superstition fade, and toleration tri- 
umphs, then the work of which the stage is capable 
will be fairly judged, and there will be no bar to en- 
counter. The lesson of toleration is not for the player 
alone ; the preacher must learn it." 



78 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

ni. 

The first week in !N^ew York was, in a great measure, 
spent between the theatre and the hotel. Invitations 
to dinner and receptions were, as a rule, declined. 
The exceptions were breakfasts given by Mr. Vanderbilt 
and Judge Shea. Many distinguished persons called. 
All kinds of polite attentions were offered, some of 
which it is to be feared Irving had not time or 
opportunity to acknowledge as he could have wished. 
One gentleman placed his carriage at Mr. Irving 's dis- 
posal ; another offered to lend him his house ; another 
his steam launch. These courtesies were tendered grace- 
fully and without ostentation. Flowers were sent regu- 
larly from unknown hands to the Hotel Dam. Miss 
Terry went driving with friends in the Park, and found 
the trotting -track a fascinating scene. Within forty- 
eight hours Irving was a familiar figure in the lower 
part of Fifth avenue and Union square, as he walked 
to and from the theatre. He and Miss Terry^made 
their first acquaintance at Delmonico's in company with 
myself and wife. An elegant little dinner, of which the 
ice-creams were its most successful feature. Artistic 
in construction, they were triumphs of delicate color. 
I think they were the chef^s tributes to Miss Terry's 
supposed aesthetic taste. No wonder the Delmonicos 
made millions of dollars, when it is possible that the 
chief reminiscence of a dinner may be associated with 
the ice-creams and sweets. On Tuesday, after a 
rehearsal and a drive down- town on a pouring wet 
day, I piloted the new-comer to Sieghortner's, in 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 79 

Lafayette place. This well-known cafe occupies the 
house in which the Astors lived. It is a building 
characteristic of the early days of New York's first 
millionnaires, — marble steps, heavy mahogany doors, 
rich Moorish decorations, spacious hall-ways. Close by 
is the As tor Library, a valuable institution, and the 
street itself has quite an Old- World look. It was once 
the most fashionable quarter of New York ; but 
wealth has moved towards the park, and left Lafayette 
place to restaurants, boarding-houses, public baths, and 
stores. Sieghortner himself is a typical Dutchman, 
a veritable Knickerbocker of hotel-keepers, and a 
gourmet. He is almost the only " landlord " (as we 
would call him at home) in New York who will con- 
descend to wait upon his guests. It is a pleasure to 
look upon his beaming face when you order a dinner 
and leave menu and wines to his judgment. As he 
stands by your chair, directing his attendants, he is 
radiant with satisfaction if you are pleased, and would 
no doubt be plunged into despair if you were dis- 
satisfied. Shrewsbury oysters, gumbo soup, cutlets, 
canvas-back ducks, a souffle, Stilton cheese, an 
ice, a liqueur, a dish of fruit, and a bottle of hock that 
filled the room w^ith its delicious perfume. 

"It was perfection, Mr. Sieghortner," said Irving, as 
he sipped his coffee, and addressed the old man, — "the 
canvas-back superb. You are so interested in the 
art of dining that you will appreciate a little experience 
of mine in connection with the great American bird, — 
I don't mean the eagle, but the duck." 



80 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Sieghortner rubbed his hands, and said, " Oh, yes, 
— why, of course ! " 

"An old American friend of mine, — dead now, 
alas! — when he was in his prime, as they say, 
frequently had numbers of canvas-back ducks sent 
to London from New York. On the first great occa- 
sion of this kind he invited thirty guests to eat thirty 
ducks. He spent a day or two instructing the chef o^ 
a well-known club how to cook them. The kitchen 
was to be well heated, you know, and the ducks car- 
ried gently through." 

" Oh, yes, that's the way ! " said Sieghortner, rubbing 
his hands. 

" Well, the night came. His guests were in full 
force. The ducks were served. They had a whitey- 
brown and flabby appearance. Bateman cut one and 
put it aside. He tried another, and in his rage flung 
it under the table. The dinner was an utter failure." 

" Dear ! dear ! " exclaimed Sieghortner. 

"My friend did not forget it for months. He 
was continually saying, ' I wonder how that fool 
spoiled our ducks ; I have tried to find out, but it is a 
mystery.' Nearly a year afterwards I heard of the 
chefs sudden death. Meeting my friend, I said, * Have 
you heard of poor So-and-so, the chef at the club, — he 
is dead ! ' — 'I am very glad of it ! ' he exclaimed. ^ Do 
you know, he cooked those ducks over the gas ! ' " 

"Dear! dear!" exclaimed Sieghortner, a quick ex- 
pression of anger on his face, " why, he ought to 
have been hanged ! " 



FIBST IMPRESSIONS. %l 



IV. 

It is customary in American theatres for the orchestra 
to play the audience out as well as in. 

"We will dispense with that," said Irving to his 
conductor, Mr. Ball. 

"It is a general habit here," remarked the Star 
manager. 

"Yes, I understand so," Irving replied; "but it 
seems to me a difficult matter to select the music 
appropriately to the piece. What sort of music do you 
usually play ? " 

"A march." 

" Ah, well, you see our plays are so different, that a 
march which would do one night Avould be entirely 
out of place the next. Have you the score of ^ The 
Dead March in Saul'?" 

"No," was the conductor's reply. 

"Well, then, I think we will finish as we do in 
London, — with the fall of the curtain. If we make a 
failure on Monday night, the most appropriate thing 
you could play would be 'The Dead March.' As you 
have no score of it we will do without the exit music." 

"And who knows," said Irving, as we walked back 
to the hotel, "whether we shall have a success or not? 
The wild manner in which the speculators in tickets 
are going on is enough to ruin anything.^ They have 

1 Speculation in theatre tickets seems now to have reached its height. 
Folks thouglit it had come to a lively pass when Sarah Bernhardt was here 
and some ^23,000 worth of seats were disposed of for her engagement on the 
opening day of the sale. But, bless you, that was a mere drop in the 
bucket. A man named McBride, who has from keeping a small news-stand 



82 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

bought up every good seat in the house, I am told, and 
will only part with them at almost prohibitive prices. 
The play-goers may resent their operations and keep 
away ; if they pay ten and twenty dollars for a seat, 

gradually come fonvard until he is now one of the richest of the ticket 
speculators, " got left," as he pictui-esquely observed, on the Bernhardt 
affair. In other words, rival speculators got all the best seats. So McBride 
put twelve men on duty in front of the Star Theatre box-office three days 
before the Irving sales were to open, and there they stayed on duty day 
and night, until the Avindow was finally thrown open. Each one of these 
men got ten season-tickets for the Irving engagement, which is to last four 
weeks. In other words, every one of these men bought two hundred and 
eighty tickets of admission to the Star Theatre, so that McBride now holds 
for the Irving season a neat little pile of three thousand three hundred and 
sixty tickets. They were bought at season-ticket prices of $60 per set of 
twenty-eight, and, therefore, cost the speculator the sum of. $7,200. Nowj-ou 
will see howthe speculator happens to have the bulge on the Irving manage- 
ment. The box-office price of a ticket for a single performance is $3, and 
even if the demand should not happen to be as immense as to warrant a 
long advance on the box-office tariff, McBride can sell his tickets at the 
regular price of $3 apiece and get the sum of $10,080 for them, which will 
leave him a profit of nearly $3,000 upon his short investment. There is, 
however, little or no likelihood that he will be obliged to resort to this man- 
ner of doing business. For the first night he has already sold seats for $10 
and $15 each, and it is quite reasonable to suppose that as the time ap- 
proaches, and tickets become scarce, he can advance to a still higher price. 
These ticket-speculators have regular customers, who willingly pay them 
the ordinary price they ask rather than bother about going to the box-office. 
When Anna Dickinson wants to visit a theatre in New York she invariably 
buys her tickets of Tyson, who charges her $2 for a $1 .50 seat. So it is 
with a good many other people, particularly the rich and reckless down- 
town brokers, who purchase their tickets during the day, and who, rather 
than take the trouble to send a messenger away up to the theatre they 
intend to visit, go to the speculator's branch office and pay the advance 
demanded for whatever they want. There are only a few regular ticket- 
speculators in New York. Old Fred RuUman, a Dutchman, was for a long 
time the chief operator in theatre tickets, but he seldom appears nowadays 
in any of the big deals. He works mostly in opera tickets, and is contented 
not to take heavy risks. McBride is the longest chance-taker of the lot. 
Tyson is not a risk}' buyer, but confines his purchases pretty closely to the 
demands of his regular customers. — Ifew York Correspondent of St. Louis 
Spectator. 



FIRST IMPRESSIONS. §3 

instead of two and a half or three, they cannot be 
expected to come to the house in a contented frame of 
mind. The more money they have been pkmdercd of, 
the more exacting they will be in regard to the actors ; 
it is only natural they should. Then we have no pit 
proper, and the lowest admission price to the gallery is 
a dollar. I would have preferred to play to Lyceum 
prices ; but in that case they say I should only have 
been putting so much more into the pockets of the 
speculators. These operators in tickets are protected 
by the law ; managers are obliged to sell to them, and 
the dealers have a right to hawk them on the pavement 
at the entrance of the theatres." 

" This is a State or city law, only applying to New 
York. I don't think it exists anywhere else in the 
Union. It certainly does not at Philadelphia and 
Boston." 

"It is an outrage on the public," he replied. 
"Legitimate agencies for the convenience of the public, 
with a profit of ten or twenty per cent, to the vendor, is 
one thing ; but exacting from the public five and ten 
dollars for a two-and-a-half-dollar seat is anothero 
After all, a community, however rich, have only a cer- 
tain amount of money to spend on amusements. There- 
fore the special attractions and the speculators get the 
lion's share, and the general or regular amusements of 
the place have to be content with short commons." 

" If the ^ Sun ' reporter could hear you he would 
congratulate himself on having called you ^ a business- 
like Hamlet.' " 



84 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA, 

IV. 
AT THE LOTOS CLUB. 



The Savage Club of America — Thackeray and Loi'd Houghton — A Great 
Banquet — Mr. Whitelaw Reid on Irving and the Actor's Calling — 
" Welcome to a Country where he may find not Unworthy Brethren " — 
An Answer to the Warnings of the English Traveller of Chapter I. 
— " Shakespeare's Charles the First " — A Night of Wit and Humor — 
Chauncey M. Depew on Theatrical Evolution — The Ivnighting of 
Sullivan — The Delineator of Romance visiting the Home of America's 
Creator of Romance — After-dinner Stories — Conspiring against the 
Peace of a Harmless Scotchman — A Pleasant Jest. 



The Lotos Club is the Savage of America, as the 
Century is its Garrick ; each, however, with a differ- 
ence. The Lotos admits to membership gentlemen 
who are not necessarily journalists, authors, actors, 
and painters, earning their subsistence out of the arts. 
They must be clubable and good fellows, in the 
estimation of the committee ; and herein lies their best 
qualification. This combination of the arts proper 
with trade and finance has made the club a success in 
the broadest sense of the term. Their home is a 
palace compared with that of the Savage in London. 
The general atmosphere of the Century is more akin 
to that of the Garrick, and it is a far closer corpo- 
ration than the Lotos. Mr. Thackeray spent a good 
deal of his time there when he was in New York ; 
while Lord Houghton, it is said, preferred the more 



AT TEE LOTOS CLUB. §5 

jovial fireside of the Lotos. In those days the 
younger chib was in humbler, but not less comfortable, 
quarters than those it now occupies ; wliile the Cen- 
tury, conservative and conscious of its more aristocratic 
record, is well content with the house which is asso- 
ciated with many years of pleasant memories. 

The Lotos honored Irving with a banquet ; the Century 
welcomed him at one of its famous monthly reunions. 
The Lotos dinner was the first public recognition, 
outside the press, of Irving in America. He had 
accepted its invitation before sailing for New York, 
and sat down with the Lotos-eaters on the Saturday 
(October 27) prior to his jMonday night's appearance 
at the Star Theatre. The club-rooms had never been 
so crowded as on this occasion. Dishes were laid for 
a hundred and forty members and guests in the dining- 
room and saIo7i of the club, and fifty others consented 
to eat together in the restaurant and reading-room 
upstairs, and fifty or sixty others had to be content to 
come in after dinner. Mr. Irving sat on the right 
hand of the President of the club, Mr. Whitelaw 
Eeid, editor of the "Tribune." At the same table 
were Chauncey M. Depew, Dr. A. E. Macdonald, 
General Horace Porter, E. Randolph Robinson, 
Alo-ernon S. Sullivan, R. B. Roosevelt, Thomas W. 
Knox, H. H. Gorringe, W. H. Smith, Rev. Robert 
Laird Collyer, and F. R. Lawrence. Among others 
present were Lawrence Barrett, Joseph Jefl^erson, 
William J. Florence, R. W. Gilder, Dr. Fordyce 
Barker, D. G. Croly, General Winslow, and A. Oakey 
Hall. In a window alcove behind the President's chair 



S6 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

stood an easel, holding a large portrait of Irving as 
Shy lock. 

Coffee being served, jMr. Irving was conducted up- 
stairs to be introduced to the diners in his honor who 
were crowded out of the lower rooms. They received 
him with a loud cheer, and then accompanied him to 
join the other guests. The company broke up into 
groups, stood about the door-ways, and thronged 
around the President, who thereupon arose and ad- 
dressed them as follows : — 

"You must excuse the difficulty in procuring seats. 
You know the venerable story which Oscar Wilde ap- 
propriated about the sign over the piano in a far-western 
concert-hall : * Don't shoot the performer ; he's doing 
the best he can.' (Laughter.) The committee beg 
me to repeat in their behalf that touching old appeal. 
They've done the best they could. There are five 
hundred members of this club, and only one hundred 
and forty seats in this dining-room ; they have done 
their utmost to put the five hundred men into the one 
hundred and forty seats. Don't shoot ! They'll come 
down, apologize, retreat, resign, — do anything to 
please you. They've thoroughly tried this thing of put- 
ting two men in one seat and persuading the other 
three that standing room is just as good ; and to-night, 
as the perspiration rolls from their troubled brows, their 
fervent hope and prayer is that the manager for your 
distinguished guest may be haunted by that self-same 
trouble all through his American tour ! (Applause and 
laughter. ) 

"London appropriated our national anniversary, to 



AT THE LOTOS CLUB. 87 

do honor to its favorite actor as he was about to visit 
us. On that occasion, on the Fourth of July last, at a 
banquet without a parallel in the history of the British 
stage, and to which there are actually none to be com- 
pared, save the far less significant, but still famous, 
entertainments to Kean and Macready, — at that ban- 
quet your guest said : ^ This God-speed would alone 
insure me a hearty welcome in any land. But I am 
not going among strangers. I am going among 
friends.' (Applause.) 

"Let us take him at his word. Once we were apt 
to get our opinions from the other side. If that grows 
less and less a habit now, with the spread among us, 
since we attained our national majority, of a way 
of doing our own thinking, we are still all the more 
glad to welcome friendships from the other side. 

"We know our friendly guest as the man whom 
a great, kindred nation has agreed to accept as its 
foremost living dramatic representative. We know 
that his success has tended to elevate and purify the 
stage, to dignify the actor's calling, to widen and 
better its influence. We know the scholarship he has 
brought to the representation of the great dramatists, 
the minute and comprehensive attention he has given 
to every detail alike of his own acting and of the 
general management. His countrymen do not say 
that if he were not the foremost actor in England he 
would be the first manager ; — they declare that he is 
already both. (Applause.) 

" We bid him the heartiest of welcomes to a country 
where he may find not unworthy brethren. Our greet- 



88 IMPBESSIONS OF ^AMERICA. 

ing indeed takes a tone of special cordiality not so 
much from what we know of his foreign repute, or 
from our remembering the great assemblage of repre- 
sentative countrymen gathered to give him their fare- 
well and God-speed. It cpmes even more from our 
knowing him as the friend of Edwin Booth (Applause) , 
and Joseph Jefferson (Applause) , and Lawrence Bar- 
rett (Applause), and John McCullough (Applause), 
and William Florence (Applause). And if anything 
else were needed to make the grasp of every man's 
hand in this club yet warmer, it is furnished when 
we remember that his conspicuous friend among 
English actors is our friend, John Toole. (Ap- 
plause.) 

" It would not be fair to our distinguished but un- 
suspicious guest, adventuring into these foreign parts, 
if, before sitting down, I did not warn him that all 
this, and much more which he is likely to hear, is said 
around the dinner-table. Let him not think that he 
wholly knows us, and is fairly naturalized, until he has 
read the papers the morning after his first perform- 
ance. What they may contain no living man knoweth 
(Laughter) ; but others have sometimes groaned that 
we treat our guests with too much attention ; that we 
accord them, in fact, the same distinguished honor 
we give our national bird, — the turkey, — which we 
first feed and afterwards carve up. (Great laugh- 
ter.) 

"But the prologue is an antiquated device, now 
pretty well banished from the stage, because it merely 
detains you from what you came to hear. I will de- 



AT THE LOTOS CLUB. 89 

tain you no longer. I give you, gentlemen, Our 
Guest, — 

*' O trumpet set for Shakespeare's lips to blow I " 

- "Health to Henry Irving, and a hearty welcome." 
(Great applause.) 

II. 

The toast was drank with ringing cheers, and in its 
report of the reply the " Tribune " says : "Mr. Irving 
spoke in measured tones, and with a singularly clear 
and effective enunciation, his frequent ironical sallies 
being received with bursts of laughter and applause." 
He said : — 

"Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen, — It is not in my 
power to thank you, with eloquence, for the recep- 
tion that you have given me to-night. In spite of the 
comfortino; words and suo;2;estions of our friend, the 
chairman, that on Tuesday morning my feelings may 
undergo a change, I am quite determined that to-niglit 
and to-morrow night, if all be well, I shall have a 
good night's rest. I do feel naturalized ; and, whatever 
may be said to the contrary, I shall always bear away 
with me the impression that I am among my own flesh 
and blood. (Applause.) The simile of the turkey did 
not affect me very much ; for if the ill-omened bird (I 
do not know whether he is as familiar in your country 
as he is in mine) , the goose, is not served up I shall be 
very content. (Applause.) 

"You have received me, not as a stranger, but as a 



90 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

welcome friend (Applause) , and that welcome I appre- 
ciate with all my heart and soul. In coming here 
amongst you I really had — I may as well confess it — 
but ouQ terror. The Atlantic I would brave ; the wind 
and weather I would scorn ; even sea-sickness I would 
enjoy ; but there was one terror, — the interviewer. 
(Laughter.) But I am very glad to tell you that that 
is passed ; and I have said so much to the interviewer 
that I have very little left to say to you. I must, how- 
ever, also tell you that I find the interviewer a very much 
misrepresented person. He seemed to me to be a most 
courteous gentleman, who had but an amiable curiosity 
to know a little about myself that he did not know be- 
fore ; and I was very well satisfied to gratify him as 
much as I could. I was told that he would turn me 
inside out ; that he would cross-examine me, and then 
appear against me the following morning. (Laughter.) 
But I found nothing of the sort ; and if I had any 
complaint to make against him, the comments with 
which he tempered his suggestions were so flattering 
and so gratifying to myself that I forgave him the 
suggestions that he made. The only thing that I would 
quarrel with him for was for saying that I reminded 
him of Oscar Wilde. (Laughter.) Oscar Wilde is 
a very clever fellow, and I am not going to descant 
upon him. You know more about liim than I do ; and 
I hope that when Oscar Wilde reads what I have said — 
as 1 suppose he will — he will take no offence. I am 
extremely indebted to the interviewer, also, for telling 
me that I was classed with Edwin Booth. With that I 
have no fault to find. 



AT TEE LOTOS CLUB. 91 

"To the courtesy and kindness of American gentle- 
men I have long been accustomed ; for if you have not 
in London, as you havem Paris, an American quarter, 
it is really because Americans are found everywhere in 
London ; and I think that everywhere in London they 
are welcome. (Applause. ) Our interests are mutual ; 
and in our art we are getting day by day more closely 
allied. London is now talking with raptures of your 
Mary Anderson (Applause) ; of your great tragedian, 
Booth (Applause) ; of your great comedian, Jefferson 
(Applause) — I dislike the words ^ tragedian ' and 
* comedian ' ; actor is so much better, and it is a house- 
hold word. McCullough and Clarke, and my friends 
Florence and Raymond, have had amongst us the 
heartiest of welcomes. And I am quite sure that your 
famous actress, Clara Morris, need only come amongst 
us — as my friend, Lawrence Barrett, is coming — to 
have another welcome. 

" Mr. Whitelaw Reid has spoken of my work in my 
art in the kindest and most appreciative way. If I 
have done anything to gain that commendation, it is 
because I have striven to do my duty ; and but for the 
appreciation of many of my countrymen, who have 
thought so, and but for the appreciation that I receive 
now at this table, I am quite sure that my work would 
have been in vain. 

" I do not intend to bore you with any ideas of mine 
about my art, either histrionically or pictorially. My 
method, histrionically, is a very simple one. I merely 
endeavor to go to the fountain-head to get my inspira- 
tion ; and by what my work is I know that you will 



92 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

judge it, and judge it fairly. I am quite sure of this : 
that no people will go to a theatre with a greater desire 
to do justice to an actor than you will go to the theatre 
to see me on Monday night. (Applause.) If you like 
me you will express it ; and, if you do not like me, 
still you will treat me kindly. 

"Our art is cosmopolitan. Every actor has his own 
methods, as every painter has his methods, and every 
writer has his style. The best actor amongst us has a 
great deal to learn. It is only at the end of his career 
that he finds how short is his life, and how long is 
his art. Concerning the mounting of plays, I give 
to a play of Shakespeare the same advantage that I 
would give to any modern author ; and until a greater 
man than Shakespeare arrives, I think I shall continue 
to do so. (Applause.) 

"In my own dear land I am glad to tell you that the 
love for Shakespearian drama is very greatly increasing. 
Shakespearian societies throughout our land have done 
much to encourage that. You know very well that 
there was a time when Shakespeare was said by a Lon- 
don manager to spell * bankruptcy,' and Lord Byron 
'ruin.' I remember that at one of the revivals of Shake- 
spearian plays at the Lyceum, a gentleman leaving the 
theatre was heard to express the opinion that the play 
was not a bad one ; that he thought it might have a 
tolerable run, but that it would be very much improved 
if it had not contained so many quotations. (Laughter. ) 
The play was * Macbeth.' (Laughter.) I have been 
told that that gentleman is sometimes to be found in 
the British Museum, in the old reading-room devoted 



AT THE LOTOS CLUB. 93 

to Shakespearian manuscripts, and that he is very fre- 
quently found turning them over ; but with what suc- 
cess I do not know. I also remember tliat once, when 
a play was produced, a friend of mine asked me what 
the subject of it was. I said to him that the subject 
was Charles I. ; at which he hemmed and hawed and 
said, ' Very good ; very good ; oh, capital ! Charles 
I. Yes, I should think that would do very well. Let 
me see. Charles I. Do you mean Shakespeare's 
Charles I.?' (Laughter.) However, these things 
are improving, and even the old play-goer, — I do not 
know whether such a character exists amongst you, — 
who is amongst us a very dreadful creature ; even he 
is beginning to tolerate the student who goes to the 
book, instead of to traditional characters, for his inspi- 
ration. 

" We are very hypocritical, however, some of us, in 
England. We go to the Crystal Palace to see the 
play of ^ Hamlet,' and go to the Crystal Palace because 
it is not a theatre ; and when we would not go to a 
theatre to see the play of ^ Hamlet,' we will go to the 
Crystal Palace, or some other such place, to see the 
*Pink Dominoes.' (Laughter.) We will crowd some- 
times to the French theatre, without understanding the 
nationality, the gesture, of the actors, or a word of their 
language, when we will desert our own theatres where 
these pieces are being played. But fortunately no such 
difference as that can exist between us ; and I cherish 
the hope that it will be my good fortune, and more 
especially the good fortune of my fellow- workers, and 
especially of my gifted companion and friend, Ellen 



94 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Terrv (Great applause), — I say that I cherish the 
hope that we shall be able to win your favor. 
(Applause.) I dare say that you will find many of us 
very strange and very odd, with peculiarities of speech, 
and with peculiarities of manner and of gesture ; but it 
would, perhaps, not be so pleasurable if we were all 
just alike. (Laughter.) It is not our fault, you 
know, if we are Englishmen. 

" Gentlemen, I thank you with all my heart for the 
greeting you have given me. I thank you for the 
brotherly hand that you have extended to me. And if 
anything could make one feel at home, and comfort- 
able, and sure of having a real good time amongst you, 
it is the cordiality with which I have been received to- 
night. The very accents of your hearty greeting, and 
the very kindness of your genial faces, tell me that 
there are in your hearts good and kind overflowing 
wishes. Gentlemen, I thank you with all my heart ; 
and I feel that there is a bond between us which dates 
before to-night." 

The speaker sat down amidst great applause. His 
manner and matter had evidently given great satisfac- 
tion. How he had been misrepresented as to his man- 
nerisms is unconsciously admitted by the note of the 
"Tribune" reporter that he spoke clearly. He did, 
and in that quiet, self-possessed, conversational style 
which was remarked as so effective at the London 
banquet. 



AT TEE LOTOS CLUB. 95 



III. 

As it was generally admitted that the speaking on 
this night had never been exceeded in wit and humor, 
and for its cordiality towards a famous Englishman, at 
any of the Lotos dinners, I make no apology for print- 
ing portions of the other addresses. Mr. Chauncey M. 
Depew, General Porter, and ex-Mayor Oakey Hall, 
have long since made distinct reputations for themselves 
as American orators. At an English dinner men speak 
to set toasts. In America they are called upon, frequent- 
ly without warning, to speak to a sentiment, or "to say 
a few words." It was in this fashion that the speakers 
at the Irving banquet were brought into the extem- 
porized programme, and with the most agreeable re- 
sults. Mr. Chauncey M. Depew, being asked by the 
chairman to speak, rose promptly, amidst the clouds of 
many Havanas, and said : — 

"Mr. President, — The best criticism that was 
made upon the speech of our guest to-night was, ^He 
talks like an American.' I am sure that this memo- 
rable night will be recollected from the fact that, in the 
midst of the din of wars and contests and controversies 
about us, this is simply a peaceful tribute on behalf 
of this club to one of the chief and most devoted of the 
exponents of the drama. We have welcomed to this 
country recently many eminent Englishmen, and among 
them Lord Coleridge, whom we were glad to see and 
to honor, both for what he is and what he represents. 
We have received, at the same time with Mr. Irving, 



96 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Matthew Arnold, and, while as a great thinker we give 
him welcome, we warn him that orthodoxy has for him 
its scalping-knife sharp, and that the theological hatchet 
is thirsting for his gore. (Laughter.) 

'' The whole town is in a din and furore with the 
operatic war, and tenors are peeping over high ^C's' 
to get at each other, while sopranos are hauled before 
the courts. (Laughter.) jNIapleson walks around 
with the chip on his shoulder, and Abbey calls upon 
the police to prevent him from hurting somebody. 
(Laughter. ) 

" But, while this controversy rages, we meet here to- 
night, with one voice and one accord, to welcome the 
most eminent dramatic scenic painter of this century 
and the most eminent English actor of this generation. 
(Applause.) We have welcomed to this board many 
men from beyond the seas, and while they have poured 
something into this vast reservoir of intellectual wealth, 
we have done more for them. Lord Houghton asserts 
that his health and longevity after his reception here 
were largely due to the fact that he learned at this place 
the way to longevity by a cheap and frugal meal. 
(Laughter.) From this board Sullivan arose to be- 
come a knight. (Laughter and applause.) We are 
all of us familiar with the oratory which usually char- 
acterizes an expression of the relations between the old 
country and the new. There is nothing better known 
in the whole range of eloquence than that which refers 
to the interdependent relations, in respect to literature 
and science and art, between America and England. 
While this chord is familiar there is one string which is 



AT TEE LOTOS CLUB. 97 

not often touched, and that is the debt we owe to the 
English thinkers, Huxley, Tyndall, and Darwin, who 
have created the shibboleth, known in all the schools of 
America, that evolution is the- great principle of modern 
science. 

"While the most of us believe in evolution in theory, 
in practice we have seen it only upon the stage. The 
Englishman, from whom our Yankee inherits com- 
mercial instincts, saw our want and supplied it. First 
he sent to us Lydia Thompson and her troupe. 
(Laughter.) And then the shrewd Englishman sent 
us * Pinafore.' We were at first fascinated, then 
charmed, and then annihilated. We could stand 
* Pinafore ' for six hundred consecutive nights in all 
the theatres, to the exclusion of everything else ; in 
the parlor, upon the piano, in the school-room, on the 
hurdy-gurdy and on the hand-organ ; but when the 
church choir could do nothing else, then there rose 
a cry for relief from one end of this country to the other. 
(Great laughter. ) The like of that cry has never been 
heard since the children of Israel sought to escape from 
Egypt. (Renewed laughter. ) Then, in recognition 
of his great service. Queen Victoria summoned the 
author to her presence, and said to him: *For one 
hundred years I have sought to subdue those children 
of ours beyond the seas, but without avail ; but for 
your grand success arise and take your place with 
the knights of armor.' (Great laughter.) 

" There is nothing which more clearly indicates the 
development of this American people from provincial- 
ism and its bigotry than the welcome given to 



98 IMPIiESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Macready, and that which we accord to Irving. To 
secure a hearing for Macready required that the 
soldiery should march with fixed bayonets and sliotted 
guns, while the blood of the mob poured through 
the gutter. But now the American people have 
developed into a recognition of the fact that to be a 
great people they must adopt that catholicity that 
embraces men all over the world ; that, while they may 
believe in Protection for textile fabrics and manufact- 
ures, there must be Free Trade in genius. (Ap- 
plause.) 

" We hail, with the gladdest acclaim and heartiest 
welcome, the German Barnay, the Italian Salvini, and 
the English Irving, because we wish to have the best 
the world has of art in any of its departments, and 
because we want to show them that their success is 
incomplete until they have passed the ordeal of Ameri- 
can criticism. (Applause.) The very best tribute of 
recent times to the sentiment of right-minded men 
of culture and intelligence on both sides of the 
Atlantic, notwithstanding what demagogues may say, is 
that a London audience crowded the house and rose to 
the highest enthusiasm to greet the appearance, and 
applaud the acting, of the American, Edwin Booth (Ap- 
plause) ; and its counterpart will be the reciprocity mani- 
fested by the American people in crowding the house and 
applauding the acting of Henry Irving. (Applause.) 
Still, in illustration of the same idea, while London 
renders her most generous tribute to the beauty and 
genius of Mary Anderson, we here, with an equal 
chivalry, will receive with our best loyalty that beauti- 



AT THE LOTOS CLUB. 99 

ful, charming, and genial woman, that brilliant actress, 
that great genius, Ellen Terry." (Great applause.) 

General Horace Porter, being called up by the 
President, assured the company that he was really not 
prepared to speak. He said he felt considerably em- 
barrassed. His audience evidently did not believe 
him, and he amply justified their scepticism. In an 
easy, conversational manner he said : — 

" I do not even feel that security which was enjoyed 
by Daniel in the lions' den, for he had the comfortable 
assurance that as these animals had their original pro- 
gramme, althoucijh he misfht be eaten, it was not likelv 
that he would be called upon for an after-dinner speech. 
(Laughter.) But if there is any stimulus which can 
arouse the most sluggish mind it has been abundantly 
furnished to-night by the finished and chaste address 
which has fallen from the lips of our distinguished 
guest. He has shown us to-night how well qualified 
he is to furnish us with that dish which I know is so 
much relished in liis own country, — after-dinner tongue 
garnished with brains. Standing, as we do, in the 
presence of so distinguished a representative of that 
profession which is accustomed to speak the carefully 
prepared words of the dramatists, I would not be sur- 
prised to hear our guest say, in the language of Romeo 
to Juliet in the balcony scene, as he listens to my ill- 
considered words, ^He speaks, yet he says nothing.' 
(Laughter.) I hope Mr. Irving is beginning to 
understand that speech is the peculiar form of insanity 
that comes upon the American mind after dinner, and 



100 IMPEESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

that here men keep silent only when they are sali- 
vated. (Laughter.) Our guest, no doubt, begins to 
realize what this martyrdom is. By the time he is 
ready to depart from us he will, no doubt, have 
greater respect than ever before for the beneficence of 
that Providence which has endowed us with two ears 
and only one mouth. (Laughter.) But this martyr- 
dom to-night does not seem to be of the nature of the 
martyrdom of Charles I. , for throughout it all he has 
not lost his head. It seems to be rather that martyr- 
dom of Cranmer, — he has been so thoroughly toasted 
on every side. (Laughter.) But there is one privi- 
lege that Mr. L-ving must not expect to enjoy. AYhen 
German and French artists came here they enjoyed a 
special and peculiar privilege ; they were not able to 
understand a word that was said by the speakers. 
(Laughter.) 

" But I cannot sit down without saying a few words 
in all seriousness. It is that this club considers that it 
enjoys a peculiar privilege in having the distinguished 
guest of the night partaking of his first family meal 
within our land in these walls. (Applause.) It has 
been a cherished desire on the part of this club to 
press the cup of greeting to his Hps. We recognize 
in him the masterly interpreter of the sublime works 
of that prince of dramatists whom both countries claim 
as their own. He comes amongst us with a name that 
is no stranger to our hearts. In his coming here I see 
the great delineator of romance visiting the land of 
our most charming creator of romance, — Henry Irving 
visiting the home of Washington Irving. The Amer- 



AT TEE LOTOS CLUB. 101 

ican people feel under a deep sense of obligation to 
our guest, because when that great representative of 
the American drama set foot upon foreign shores the 
lips that gave him the warmest greeting, the hands 
that led him to the boards of London's most distin- 
guished temple of the drama, were those of Henry 
Irving. He shared equally with Booth the honors of 
his own stage ; and laid down the principle that has 
become a law, which declares the path of ambition is 
never so narrow that two cannot walk abreast upon it. 
" It was my privilege a year ago to hear Mr. Irving 
in his own home. It was my privilege to feast my 
vision upon the masterly creations of the stage of the 
Lyceum. There one saw at once the reality of paint- 
ing. There the curtain rises upon absolute perfection. 
If I were asked the secret of his success I should say 
it is owing to his constant aspirations after the high- 
est realms of dramatic art. I would that words or 
deeds of mine could add to the warmth of the welcome 
he has received." (Loud applause.) 

Dr. A. E. Macdonald, ex-Mayor A. Oakey Hall, 
Dr. Robert Laird Collier, Mr. Joseph Jefferson, and 
other gentlemen, also responded to the chairman's call. 
Dr. Macdonald indulged in some good-humored sallies 
at the expense of Mr. Depew. He also spoke of the 
New York press having " only just arrived at a proper 
estimate of its true value, — the result being a general 
reduction in price to two cents." Mr. Oakey Hall, 
referring to the many streets and buildings he had been 
officially called upon to name, said, "I now, in memory 



102 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

of this night, declare that the window recess in which 
our illustrious guest is sitting shall, from henceforth, 
be known as * The Henry Irving ! ' " Mr. Jefferson 
said, " Gentlemen, Charles Lamb is reported to have 
declared that there are only two classes in the world, — 
one born to borrow, and the other to lend. So do I 
think there are two classes of speech-makers, — one 
born to get into it, the other to get out of it. I belong 
to the latter crowd. Nevertheless on this occasion I 
rise cheerfully to do my best among the born talkers. 
Mr. Irving must be getting tired of hearing his name 
mentioned so often with words of welcome and admira- 
tion, and I will only say that I join heartily in all the 
kind and worthy tilings that have been said of him." 



IT. 

It was late before the Lotos-eaters parted, although 
London clubmen take more out of the night than is the 
habit with New-Yorkers. The raciness of the evening s 
speeches was repeated in the stories that were told by 
the genial few, who sat and talked and smoked with 
their guest until Fifth avenue was as quiet and 
deserted as it was when a crowd of admiring 
friends went out to meet the " Britannic " a week 
previously. Aj^rojjos of an amusing anecdote, wdth 
a practical joke in it, which was related, I think, by 
Colonel Knox, the courteous honorary secretary of the 
club, Irving said, "I am not much of a hand at that 
kind of fun, but I remember an incident in which my 
old friend Toole, a Glasgow doctor, and myself were 



AT THE LOTOS CLUB. 103 

engaged that may amuse you. Some years ago we 
found ourselves with a holiday forced upon us by the 
church of Scotland. We utilized it by going out a 
short distance into the country and dining together 
at a famous roadside inn. The house was quite empty 
of guests, and we claimed the privilege of travellers, 
on our way to the next town, to sit over our dinner 
a trifle later than it was the custom to keep the bar 
open. The landlord was very civil, and we had an 
excellent dinner. The waiter who attended to our 
wants was a quaint old felloAv, — one of those rugged 
sort of serving-men with whom Sir Walter Scott has 
made us all so well acquainted. While he was re- 
spectful, he was, nevertheless, very talkative. He told 
us there had been of late many robberies in the neigh- 
borhood. The constabulary, he said, were quite out 
of their reckoning in regard to tracing the thieves. 
He wondered if the country was going back again to 
the coaching days when cracksmen and highwaymen 
had it all their own way in those parts. The old 
fellow was a little superstitious too, and a lover of the 
marvellous, as many of the country people who live out- 
side great cities are apt to be. 

" ' You seem a trifle hipped,' I said ; ^ take a glass of 
wine.' 

" ^ I am just a wee bit low,' he said ; * what wi' the bad 
weather, the dull times ' — 

" ^ And the robberies you've lately had about here,' I 
8uo:o:ested. 

" ^ Ah, weel, they're nae calculated to raise one's 
sperits. Good health to you, gentlemen ! ' 



104 IMPBESSIONS OF AMEBIC A. 

" We thanked him and I filled his o^lass as^ain. 

"*This house,' said Toole, ^ is rather a lonely place ; 
you don't have many guests staying here ? ' 

" ' Not at this time o' the year,' he replied ; ^ only just 
chance customers.' 

" I filled his glass again before he went for the cheese. 
When he came back I took up a fork, and expressed 
some surprise that his master should, in these thieving 
days, entrust his guests with real silver plate. 

" ^ I dinna bring it oot for everybody,' he replied ; 
' but for a pairty o' gentlemen like yoursels, it's a 
defferent thing.' 

" ^ Is the salver there,' asked Toole, taking up the 
running and pointing to the sideboard, ^ real silver?' 

" * Indeed it is, and all the plate aboot is silver, and I 
ken they dinna mak' sich silver nowadays.' 

" ' Bring us a little whiskey ! — a pint in a decanter ; a 
drop of the best,' I said. 

" Having planted the right kind of seed in his mind for 
the working of a little jest I had in my own, my com- 
panions and myself entered into a conspiracy against 
the peace of this harmless Scotchman. Invited to take 
a nip of whiskey, he readily complied, and just as 
readily took a seat. We drew him out about all the 
robberies and murders he could remember, and then 
deftly got from him the statement that his master had 
gone to bed, leaving up only himself, the bar-maid, 
and his wife. Presently the doctor looked at his 
watch, and said it would soon be time for us to go. 
'I think you had better get our bill, Sandy,' I said, 
for by tliis time I was quite on familiar terms with him, 



AT THE LOTOS CLUB. 105 

and he with me. 'You need not be in a hurry ; let us 
have it in about a quarter of an hour,' added Toole, 
somewhat mysteriously. * We are not quite ready to 
go yet.' 

"'Yary weel, and thank ye,' he said, at the same 
time making us a bow which was quite a study of 
manner, combining independence and servility. He 
was a fine old fellow, straight as a poplar, but with a 
face full of wrinkles, and a characteristic gait that 
some people would call a mannerism. 

" The moment he left the room each of us seized a piece 
of plate until we had cleared up every bit of silver in the 
room. We noted the exact places from which we took 
every piece ; then we opened the window. It was a 
very dark night, but we had noticed that close by the 
window there were some thick shrubs. We put out 
the gas, but left alight two candles on the table, so 
ti^iat we could see from our hiding-place what Sandy's 
face would look like when it should dawn upon him 
that we were a pack of thieves — perhaps part of the 
gang of swell mobsmen who had become the terror of 
the district. 

"I shall never forget the bewildered expression of 
the poor fellow's face as he stared at the empty room. 
Amazement gave place to fear, and fear to indig- 
nation, when he discovered that the silver had been 
carried off. 

" ' Great heevens ! ' he exclaimed. ' Thieves ! berg- 
lers ! robbers I An' if the rogues hae nae carried off 
the plate and gan awa' wi'out payin' their score into 
the bargain, my name is nae Sandy Blake ! " 



106 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

" He rushed to the open window and peered wildly 
out into the darkness. 

"'The scoundrels were just fooling me, like any 
softy.' 

" Then he began to shout ' Thieves I ' and ' Murder ! ' 
and ran oiF, as we hoped and expected he would, to alarm 
the house. We all crept back to the room, closed the 
window, drew down the blind, relighted the gas and 
our cigars, put each piece of silver back into its 
proper place, and sat down to wait for our bill. We 
could hear Sandy, at the top of his voice, telhng the 
story of the robbery ; and in a few minutes we heard, 
evidently the enth-e household, coming pell-mell to 
the dining-room. Then our door was flung open ; but 
the crowd, instead of rushing in upon us, suddenly 
paused en masse, and Sandy exclaimed, ' Great God ! 
Weel, weel ! Hae I just gane clean daft?' 

" ' Come awa', drunken foo', come awa' ! ' exclaimed 
the landlord, pulling Sandy and the rest back into the 
passage and shutting the door ; but we could hear how 
both master and wife abused poor Sandy, who did 
nothing but call upon his Maker and declare, if he had 
to die that minute, when he went into the room it was 
empty of both guests and silver. He was told to go to 
bed and sleep off his drunk, and thank his stars that 
his long service saved him from instant dismissal. 

" We rang the bell. The landlord himself answered 
it. We asked for an explanation of the hubbub. It 
was nothing, he said, only that his man had got drunk 
and made a fool of himself. Was that all, we asked. 
Well, yes, except that he was very sorry to have so 



AT TEE LOTOS CLUB. 107 

disturbed us. To have all the house burst in upon us, 
we said, was such a strange proceeding, that we begged 
he Avould explain it. He said he did not like to do so. 
It was the first time Sandy had ever been known to 
get so drunk as to lose his senses, and all he could do 
was to express his regret that his servant had made a 
fool of himself; but he would not insult his guests by 
telling them how great an ass the fellow was. We 
coaxed him, however, to explain the entire business ; 
and at last, with many apologies, he told us how the 
drunken fool had mistaken us for a pack of thieves, 
and swore we had run off without paying our bill and 
taken the plate with us. We humored the landlord 
for a time, and when he was at last in a genial temper 
we told him the true story, and he enjoyed the joke as 
well as any of us. Then we had him send for Sandy, 
who was so glad to discover that he had not lost his 
wits that a couple of sovereigns left him, at our 
departure, just as happy and contented a man as he 
was before making the acquaintance of * a parcel of 
actors,' who are still regarded in some remote corners 
of Great Britain as the ^ rogues and vagabonds ' they 
are proclaimed in our ancient statute-books." 



108 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



THE NIGHT BEFORE THE PLAY. 

The Vividness of First Impressions — New York Hotels — On the Ele- 
vated Road with "Charlie" — Trotting Horses — Audiences on both 
Sides of the Atlantic — "A Man knows best what he can do" — 
** Americanisms," so called — A Satirical Sketch, entitled "Bitten by 
a Dog" — Louis and the Duke of Stratford-on-Avon — Macready and 
the Forrest Riots. 



"A JOURNALIST from Chicago is anxious to have 
your opinion of New York, and some suggestions 
about your feelings in regard to your first appearance 
in America," I said; "and if you will talk to liim I 
have undertaken to collaborate with him in writing the 
interview, so that I may revise and adopt it for our 
book of impressions." 

"Is he here?" 

"Yes, he has come over a thousand miles for the 
purpose, and his chief is an old friend of mine, the pro- 
prietor of ' The Daily News.' " 

"I am quite willing," he said, "if you think my im- 
pressions are of sufficient importance to record, after 
only a week of New York." 

" Fu'st impressions of a new country are always the 
most vivid. I believe in first impressions, at all 
events, in your case. It is another matter when one 
comes to treat them as a basis for philosophical argu- 
ment. Your friend, Mr. Matthew Arnold, was not 



THE NIGHT BEFORE THE PLAY. 109 

backward in discussing the American people, their 
cities, their institutions, their manners and customs, be- 
fore he had crossed the Atlantic at all." 

"Well, let us talk to Chicago then, if you wish it." 

" So far, are you satisfied with your reception in this 
country ? " 

" More than satisfied ; I am delighted, I might say 
amazed. It is not only the press and the public who 
have shown me so much attention, but I have received 
many courtesies privately, — some from American 
friends whom I have met in London, some from 
gentlemen whom I have never seen." 

" What is your general impression of New York, its 
theatres, hotels, streets, and its social life?" 

" I think Wallack's, or the Star, as it is called, one of 
the most admirable theatres I have ever seen, so far as 
the auditorium is concerned, and, in some respects, as to 
the stage. The appointments behind the footlights are 
rather primitive ; but, as a whole, it is a fine house." 

" Is it as good as your own in London ? " 

"Better, in many respects. As for the hotels, they 
are on a far larger scale, and seem more complete in their 
arrangements than ours. The Brevoort is, I am told, 
more like an English liouse than any other in the city. 
The genial proprietor evidently desires to make his guests 
think so. Portraits of Queen Victoria, the late 
Prince Consort, and pictorial reminiscences of the old 
country, meet you at every turn. As for social life 
in New York, what I have seen of it is very much like 
social life in London — a little different in its forms and 
ceremonies, or, I might say, in the absence of cere- 



110 IMPEESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

mony — with this exception, that there does not appear 
to be what you would call an idle class here, — a class 
of gentlemen who have little else to do but to be amused 
and have what you call * a good time. ' Everybody seems 
to be engaged in business of some kind or another." 

" Is this your first visit to America ? " 

" Yes ; though I seem to have known it for a long 
time. American friends in London have for years 
been telling me interesting things about your country. 
I had heard of the elevated road, Brooklyn bridge, 
and the splendid harbor of New York. But they are 
all quite different to what I had imagined them. The 
elevated railway is a marvellous piece of work. I 
rode down-town upon the Sixth-avenue line yesterday. 
They compelled me to carry my dog Charlie ; and I 
notice, by the way, a remarkable absence of dogs in 
the streets. You see them everywhere, you know, 
in London. Charlie, an old friend of mine, attracted 
great attention on the cars." 

"More than you did?" 

"Oh, yes, much more. He's a well-bred little 
fellow, and one gentleman, who took a great interest 
in him, tried to open negotiations to buy him from me. 
Poor Charlie ! — he is getting old and blind, though he 
looks sprightly enough. He has travelled with me in 
Europe and Africa, and now in America; some day 
we hope to see Asia together." 

" Does he go with you to the theatre ? " 

" Always ; and he knows the pieces I play. I sup- 
pose he knows them by the color of the clothes I 
wear. During some plays he sniffs about all night 



THE NIGHT BEFORE THE PLAY. \\l 

— during the long ones he settles quietly down. 
When Hamlet is played he is particularly sedate. He 
hates the 'Lyons Mail,' because there is shooting in 
it. When the murder scene comes he hides away 
in the furthermost corner he can find." 

" You are fond of animals ? " 

" Yes, very ; and the most characteristic thing I 
believe I have yet seen in America is your trotting- 
horse. I have been twice upon the track beyond the 
park; it is a wonderful sight." 

" Have you no trotting-horses in England ? " 

" Nothing like yours, and no light vehicles such as 
yours. I could only think of the old chariot-races 
as I watched the teams of magnificent trotters that 
rushed by me like the wind. I hear you have a fine 
race-course at Chicago. Our friend Hatton told me 
long ago about seeing the famous Maud S. make her 
great time there." 

" Oh, yes. I remember how astonished he was. 
Maud S. and our fire-engine service captured his 
fancy. He described the racing in 'To-day in America.' 
You are coming to Chicago ? " 

" Yes. I am informed that I shall strike quite a 
different civilization in your city to that of New York ; 
that public life with you is even more ardent than it 
is in the Empire city, and that the spirit of your com- 
merce is more energetic. I can hardly understand that ; 
but I long to see your wonderful streets and your city 
boundaries that daily push their way into the prairie. 
John McCullough, I remember, once gave me a 
startling description of Chicago." 



112 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

" I see that Mr. Sala, in the ' Illustrated London 
News,' warns you to expect our press to attack you. 
Is Mr. Sala a friend ofyours?" 

" Yes ; and a dear friend and a very remarkable man. 
But we are wandering a little from the subject you 
came to talk about." 

" Not much. May I ask if you have any nervous- 
ness as to your first appearance ? " 

"Yes, the natural nervousness that is part of an 
actor's first appearances everywhere. I cannot think 
that the taste for the drama is any different in New 
York and Chicago from Dublin, Edinburgh, Glas- 
gow, Liverpool, Birmingham, or London, in my own 
country." 

" Very much is expected of you. It would be hardly 
possible for you to realize the exaggerated ideas of some 
people. If you were a god you could not satisfy their 
expectations." 

" Nor, if I were a demon, could I achieve the atti- 
tudes and poses of my caricaturists. Between the two 
there is hope." 

" You feel that it is a great ordeal any way ? " 

"Yes." 

" Some of your methods are new, more particularly 
as to Shakespearian productions ? " 

"I believe so. In my early days I had little oppor- 
tunity to see other actors play Sliakesj)eare, except on 
the stage where I acted with them, and then I was so 
occupied with my own work that I had little time 
to observe theirs. I had, consequently, to think 
for myself. It does not follow, of course, that 



THE NIGHT BEFORE THE PLAY. 113 

I have always done the right thing, but my principle 
has been to go straight to the author. I have 
not taken up the methods of other actors, nor 
modelled my work on this or that tradition. A 
man knows best what he can do ; and it seems to 
me just as absurd for one actor to imitate another, 
to recite this speech, or impersonate that action, 
as he has seen some other actor recite or imper- 
sonate, as it would be for a writer to print a historical 
incident just as some other had done, or for a modern 
novelist to write his stories on the lines of Fieldino", 
Richardson, or Thackeray, without giving play to his 
own talents, or reins to his own imagination and con- 
ception of character." 

" I will not weary you by going over the old ground 
concerning your alleged mannerisms ; but I see that 
a New York paper has already taken you to task for 
jesting about the Pilgrim fathers. Did you notice 
that?" 

" Oh, yes ; you mean as to the Pilgrim mothers. 
I had no intention to jest about Plymouth rock. I 
only repeated a story told me by an American friend, 
the point of which was that the austerity of the 
Pilgrim fathers must have made them trying per- 
sons for the Pilgrim mothers. A very harmless bit of 
fun. One of my interviewers makes me speak of 

* Americanisms' too. The word should have been 

* mannerisms.' In regard to the so-called Americanisms 
of American actors, all I have heard in that way have 
fallen from the lips of Raymond and Florence, just as you 
would hear cockneyisms from our humorous come- 



114 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

dians, Toole and Brough. The accent of your great 
actors does not strike me as different to our own; 
though a reporter on board the ^ Britannic,' last Sun- 
day, told me he had understood I had a very strange 
accent, and was surprised to find that I spoke English 
as well as he did." 

II. 

The night before Irving's first appearance at the 
Star Theatre was spent at a quiet little supper, given to 
a few private friends, at the Manhattan Club. The 
conversation turned chiefly upon English actors. 

" I was once at a dinner of a theatrical fund, over 
which a famous old actor presided," said Irving. " His 
proposal of the first toast of the evening was a pathetic 
incident . Hi s mind was wandering back to his early days . 
After alluding to the loyalty of all classes of English- 
men, and of actors in particular, he raised his glass 
and said, ' Gentlemen, I beg to give you the health of 
His Majesty King George the Third ! ' " 

Somebody suggested that the ocean trip had done 
Irving a great deal of good. 

" It was the most perfect rest I ever remember to 
have had," he said ; " nothing to do, nothing to think of, 
no letters to answer — none to receive, for that matter ; 
nothing to do but to rest. I took plenty of exercise, 
also, on deck. I must have walked many miles a 
day." 

Later in the evening, over a last cigar, he said to me, 
" But I did a little writing on board the ' Britannic' I 
think it will amuse you. Watson asked me to send him 



TEE NIOHT BEFORE THE PLAY. 115 

something for the Christmas number of his newspaper, — 
an anecdote, or sketch of some kind. Shortly before I 
left Liverpool there appeared in the journals a paragraph 
to the effect that I had been bitten by a dog at some 
aristocratic house. It occurred to me on the ^ Britan- 
nic ' that this would make a good little story. You 
were telling me last night about my estate and palace 
on the Thames ; and yet, I don't suppose any man 
leads a quieter life than I do. I call my story ' Bitten 
by a Dog.'" 

He read as follows, and, like all good humorists, was 
tickled with his own fun, laughing now and then with 
real enjoyment at the suggestiveness of his satirical 
references to newspaper gossips, who, not knowing him 
personally, or being in any way acquainted with his 
habits, undertake to describe his inner life : — 

** We regret to hear that Mr. Henry Irving, while on a visit 

near , was severely bitten by a favorite dog, belonging 

to his host. He bled profusely, but we sincerely hope that he 
will not seriously suffer from this occurrence. — Newspaper 
Paragraph. 

" The circumstance thus recorded was somewhat novel 
to me, and having received several telegrams and 
letters of condolence upon my sad misfortune, I 
thought I would attempt, during my leisure upon the 
good ship ^ Britannic,' to tell this little story of ^ The 
Bite of a Dog,' with a veracity equalling that of the 
inventor of the above-quoted j^aragraph. 

" Seated in one of the suite of rooms which I invari- 
ably occupy in the hotels of the United Kingdom dur- 



IIG IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

ing my provincial tours, — which have become alike the 
wonder and amazement of the entire dramatic pro- 
fession,; — I was gazing into one of the many muTors 
before which it is my regular habit to study grace of 
pose and poetry of expression. I was surrounded by 
the secretaries without whom I never travel ; some 
t<ilegraphing to the four corners of the globe the 
astounding success and enormous profit which accom- 
pany all my undertakings ; others translating some of 
those essays on dramatic art which have done so much 
to regenerate the British drama ; others copying in 
manifold certain not uncomplimentary criticisms of my 
own composition upon the most subtle and sublime of 
my impersonations ; for, with Garrick, I agree that 
the actor should ever embrace the opportunity of be- 
coming the critic of his own performances. 

" In the midst of this multitudinous work a messenger 
was announced from the Duke of Stratford-upon-Avon. 
With a thrill of pleasure I sprang to my feet, and, 
greeting the messenger with a fascinating smile, begged 
him to be seated. Then throwing myself with a care- 
less ease upon the velvet-pile sofa which adorned my 
room (a present from one of my admirers, and which 
I always carry with me, as I do my many mirrors) , I 
crossed my graceful right over my still more graceful 
left leg, broke the duke's seal, and perused his letter. 

"It was an invitation to sojourn from Saturday to 
Monday at the duke's feudal home, some fifteen miles 
from the town I was then appearing in. Throughout 
my life it has been my practice to solicit the favor and 
patronage of the great ; for it is my firm belief that, to 



TEE NIQUT BEFORE TEE PLAY. 117 

elevate one's art, one should mix as much as possible 
with the nobility and gentry. 

" ' To grovel to the great is no disgrace, 
Tor notliing humble can be out of place.* 

**This social opportunity was not to be lost ; hesitation 
there was none ; the invitation was accepted. 

" On the night of my visit to His Grace, the theatre 
was crammed from floor to ceiling with an audience 
attracted by that cold curiosity which characterizes the 
public with regard to my performances. The play was 
^ Louis XI.,' and the difficult feat which I had to 
accomplish was to catch a train after the performance, 
in order to present myself at the mansion of my noble 
host in time to participate in the ducal supper. 

" Throughout the play I labored with all heart and 
earnestness to cut short the performance by every 
means in my power. I was determined to sleep under 
the roof of the Stratford-upon-Avons that night, come 
what come would. 

" The curtain fell only five minutes before the time 
of the train starting ; so, throwing on my overcoat of 
sable furs (a handsome adjunct to my American expe- 
dition), and, still attired as King Louis, — for I had 
no time to change my costume, — I rushed into the 
brougham, ready at the stage-door, and, followed by 
my valet, drove frantically to the station. 

" I was thrust immediately through the open door of 
the nearest compartment — the door was locked — the 
whistle shrieked — away sped the train — and, panting 
and breathless, I was left to my meditations. 



118 IMPRESSIONS OF AMEBICA. 

" * Ah, horror ! most dreadful thought ; too dreadful 
to relate ! I have left the theatre without my teeth, 
— my beautiful teeth ! ' 

" In order to heighten the realism of the impersona- 
tion when I first acted Louis, I had several teeth ex- 
tracted by one of our most eminent dentists, who has 
offered, as an advertisement, to take out any others in 
the like liberal manner.^ In my insane hurry to catch 
the train I had left my teeth in a glass on my dressing- 
room table. 

" But regrets are useless ; the train has stopped, and 
I enter the duke's chariot, in waiting at the station, and 
through the broad woodlands soon reach the duke's 
home. 

"I alight from the ancestral coach and enter the 
ancestral hall, in which a cheerful fire is blazing upon 
the ancestral hearth. 

" Suddenly I find myself in the presence of my host, 
surrounded by many scions of the nobility of ' England, 
Home, and Beauty.' The oddness of my position 
(dressed as I was, and minus my teeth) , and the natural 
inferiority which I always feel when in the presence of 
the real aristocrat, robbed me for the moment of my 
self-possession, and I unconsciously permitted two of 

1 This stoiy was reprinted in several American papers. A dentist of 
some note in a leading city, not appreciating its satire, wrote a long letter 
to Mr. Irving, oflfering to malce him a new set of teeth, on a patented 
system of his own, which had given great pleasure to a number of 
eminent American ladies and gentlemen. He enclosed a list of his clients, 
and the price of their teeth. As an inducement for Irving to accept his 
proposals, he quoted *<very moderate terms," on condition that "if satis- 
factory" he should "have the use of his name " in public, thus "acting 
up to the liberal principles of the English practitioner." 



TEE NIGHT BE F QBE THE PLAY, 119 

the gentlemen in powder to divest me of my overcoat, 
and there I stood revealed as that wicked monarch 
Louis XI. 

" Now, this character I have long had an idea of 
abandoning, for in art the eye must be pleased ; and 
though it is commendable to follow nature and truth, 
yet, if this can only be accomplished at the cost of one's 
personal appearance, nature and truth should certainly 
give way. But to resume. 

" Surprise at my aspect was in every face. There 
was a painful pause, and then a burst of laughter. 

" ' What is it ? ' whispered one. 

" * Who is it ? ' whispered another. 

" ' Irving,' said a third. 

" ^ Who's Irvins: ? ' asked a fourth. 

" ^ What ! don't you know ? — the actor — Irving, 
the actor — I've seen him at the Gaiety ! ' 

" I was profoundly relieved by the duke coming to 
my rescue and graciously suggesting that I might, be- 
fore supper, wish to see my room. I thanked His 
Grace with the dignity with which nature has endowed 
me, and strode like Marshal Stalk across the marble 
vestibule, when a fierce sanguinary Blenheim spaniel 
flew from the lap of a dowager duchess, and, with a 
terrific howl, buried its fangs in the calf of my beauti- 
ful left leg. 

" Consternation and pallor were in every countenance ; 
the dowager ran to seize her pet ; but, to the dismay of 
all, the dog's hold would not relax. They pulled and 
pulled again, and ' Fido ' howled at every pull. His 
teeth, unlike mine, would not be extracted. 



120 IMPBESSIONS OF JJIEJUCA. 

" There was a pause of painful silence. Mingled 
fear and compassion sat on every brow. The dowager 
was on the point of swooning in the arms of the duke, 
when the dignity and distinction which sometimes sup- 
port me in emergencies came to my aid. Turning to 
the gentle assembly, with a seraphic smile upon my 
noble features, I said, as well as my articulation would 
permit me : — 

" ^ Be not alarmed, fair ladies ; be not alarmed ! The 
dog has not torn my leg, he has only torn my pad- 
dings!'" 

III. 

" Good-night," I said, " and good luck ! When 
next we say good-night New York will have pro- 
nounced its verdict." 

" I don't believe in luck," he answered. " It will be all 
right. But it seems strange, after all our talks of 
America, that to-morrow night I am to act here in New 
York. How everything comes to an end ! Next year at 
this time, all being well, we shall be looking back upon 
the whole tour, recalling incidents of New York, Bos- 
ton, Philadelphia, Chicago, Baltimore, Washington ; 
and I dare say it will appear very much like a dream. 
It was not far from this hotel where Macready found 
refuge from the mob, in a friend's house. During 
this week several persons who were present have men- 
tioned the riots to me, and they all blame Forrest. 
I told them Forrest had some reason to believe that 
Macready had set Forster against him, which, no 
doubt, helped to embitter Forrest's mind. They say, 



THE NIOIIT BEFORE THE PLAY. 121 

however, that Forrest's hatred of English actors 
amounted to something like a mania. He must have 
been a remarkable and great actor in many parts." ^ 

1 The misunderstanding- between Forrest and Macready has been canvassod 
and discussed in most histories of the modern stage. Forrest believed 
that his ill-success in London was the result of a plot on the part of 
Macready to write him down. So fixed in his mind was this view of his 
failure, that brooding over it evidently unmanned him. He went to the 
Edinburgh Theatre (shortly before he left England for America) and 
hissed Macready in Hamlet. In a letter to the Pennsylvanian, Nov. 22, 
1848, he wrote : — 

" On the occasion alluded to, Mr. Macready introduced a fancy dance 
into his performance of Hamlet, which I designated as a pas de viouchoir^ 
and which I hissed, for I thought it a desecration of the scene ; and the 
audience thought so, too ; for, a few nights afterwards, when Mr. Macready 
repeated the part of Hamlet with the same ' tomfoolery,' the intelligent 
audience greeted it with a universal hiss. 

" Ml*. Macready is stated to have said last night that he ' had never en- 
tertained toAvards me a feeling of unkindness.' I unhesitatingly pronounce 
this to be a wilful and unblushing falsehood. I most solemnly aver, and 
do believe, that Mr. Macready, instigated by his narrow, envious mind and 
selfish fears, did secretly — not openly — suborn several writers for the 
English press to write me down. Among them was one Forster, a ' toady' 
of the eminent tragedian, — one who is ever ready to do his dirty work; and 
this Forster, at the bidding of his patron, attacked me in print, even before 
1 hud appeared upon the London boards, and continued to abuse me at 
every opportunity afterwards. 

"I assert also, and solemnly believe, that Mr. Macready connived, when 
his friends went to the theatre in London, to hiss me, and did hiss me, Avith 
the purpose of driving me from the stage ; and all this happened many 
months before the affair at Edinburgh, to which Mr. Macready refers, and 
in relation to which he jesuitically remarked, that ' until that act he never 
entertained towards me a feeling of unkindness.' " 

It is worth while adding in this place the following interesting account 
of the fatal riot, which is extracted from Barrett's life of Edwin Foi-rest 
published by Jas. R. Osgood & Co., in 1881 : — 

" On the 7th of May, 1818, Macrcad}' began an engagement at the Astor 
Place Opera House, under the management of J. H. Hackett. The theatre 
was packed by his enemies, and he was hooted from the stage. He pre- 



122 IMPEESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Irving little thought that in the reminiscences of a 
past, which had yet to come, would be an incident 
that should inseparably link his own name with the 
Forrest- Macready riots. 

pared to return to his own countiy, but was persuaded by his friends to 
remain, in order that he might see how far the public indorsed the opposi- 
tion against him. An invitation to this effect, signed by many of the best 
citizens of New York, was taken as a defiance by the admirers of Forrest, 
who prepared to meet the issue. Forrest was playing at the Broadway 
Theatre, and on the 16th of May, Macready, at the Astor Place house, 
was announced to reappear as Macbeth. The authorities had been called to 
the aid of the signers of the call, and when the doors were opened the theatre 
was instantly filled by a crowd of persons favorable to the actor, while the 
great mass of his enemies were excluded. These filled the street, however, 
while the few who did gain admission showed their opposition upon the ap- 
pearance of Macready. At the first attempt the assailants were confronted 
by a body of Macready's friends within the theatre too powerful to be 
resisted ; but the majority without added a threatening reinforcement when 
the decisive moment for violence should arrive. 

"The play was stopped. Macready, hustled from the back door in the 
cloak of a friend, barely escaped with his life, and the mimic tragedy within 
doors gave way to the approaching real tragedy without. The theatre was 
attacked on all sides by the mob, and its destruction seemed inevitable. 
Troops were called out; the order was given to disperse. The angry croAvd 
only hooted a rei^ly of derision. The riot act was read amid the yells and 
oaths of the blood-seeking rabble ; stones and missiles were hurled at the 
Seventh Regiment ; the police gave way before the overpowering numbers 
of the mob, and at last, the soldiers, sore pressed, wounded, and nearly 
demoralized by the assaults which they were not allowed to repulse, w^ere 
called upon to fire. They responded with blank cartridges, which only in- 
creased the fury of the crowd. A pause, and then the order was given to 
load with balls. A volley was fired : the cries were hushed ; the smoke 
cleared away ; the ground was red with the blood of some thirty unfortu- 
nate men ; the rioters vanished into the darkness before that hail of wrath, 
and the stain of blood was upon that quarrel which began far away ill Old 
England and ended so tragically here." 



THE BELLS, 123 



VT. 

THE BELLS. 

A Stoiiny Night in New York — Ticket-Speculators at Work — A First- 
night Audience — Mathias received with Enthusiasm — Behind the 
Scenes — Lighting the Stage — Returning Thanks — Criticism of the 
Crowd — John Gilbert's Opinion — Actor and Audience — English 
Play-goers and Londoners — Laughter and Applause — An Artistic 
Triumph. 



Torrents of rain without, and a great fashionable 
crowd within the Star Tiieatre, inaugurated Irving's 
first appearance on the American stage. 

The electric lights, away up among the wet clouds 
that emptied themselves over Union square, flashed 
coldly on untended roadways, which vehicles of all 
kinds churned into rivers of mud. The architectural 
surroundings of the place and the well-appointed car- 
riages that dashed along to the Star Theatre and the 
opera were singularly out of keeping with the broken 
streets and the everlasting telegraph poles of the 
American continent. 

It was a night on which London would have hesi- 
tated to turn out of its comfortable homes to greet even 
the most illustrious stranger ; for the rain was tropical 
in its density. It splashed on the pavements in great 
drops, or, taken hold of by the wind, came at you in 
sheets of water. Carriage-horses were protected with 
"rubber cloths," and the people who stepped out of the 



124 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

cars at the top of Broadway, or were driven to the door 
of the theatre in the public stages, were enveloped in 
" water-proofs." Nevertheless, the moment they alighted 
they were mobbed by a band of ticket-speculators, 
who followed or preceded them into the broad vestibule 
of the theatre, hawking seats even under the box-office 
windows. In appearance these energetic dealers wxre 
the counterpart of the betting men you may see on 
any English race-course, — the same in manner, and 
almost in voice. They were warmly and well clad, 
had satchels strapped to their shoulders ; but, instead 
of shouting, " Two to one, bar one ! " "I'll bet on the 
field ! " and other similar invitations to do business, 
they announced, in hoarse tones, "I have seats in the 
front row ! " " Orchestra seats, third row ! " "I have the 
best seats in the orcliestra ! " These New York specu- 
lators held in one hand a thick bundle of notes, and a 
packet of tickets in the other. They had change ready 
for any note you might offer them, and their tickets 
were frequently what they represented them to be, " for 
the choicest locations." 

For some time a notable crowd of persons , distinguished 
in New York society, pushed their way to seats which 
they had already secured, many of them at a premium of 
one hundred per cent, beyond the box-office rates. ^ A 

1 Among the audience (says the "Tribune") were Miss Ellen Terry 
herself, accompanied by an elderly gentleman, with gray hair, Avho to 
some was known to be Felix Moscheles, Mendelssohn's godson, with his 
wife, and a young man of boyish appearance, known to many as the son of 
Lord Coleridge. In the other boxes were W. H. Yanderbilt, Chauncey M. 
Depew, Judge Brady, Augustus Schell, Algernon S. Sulliv^an, John 11. 
Starin and JNIrs. Starin, Howard Carroll and INIrs. Carroll, Madame 



THE BELLS. 125 

large number of persons waited in the vestibule until the 
curtain should go up, in the hope that the speculators 
would, for a moderate consideration, relax their grip on 
" choice seats." Many tickets were sold, however, in the 
street, and in the vestibule of the theatre, for sums 
varying from five to ten dollars. Later in the even- 
ing, during the first and second acts of the play, the 
speculators parted with the balance of their property 
at box-office rates, which they readily obtained. 

The entire floor of an American theatre is devoted 
to stall seats. Ladies and gentlemen who occupied the 
back seats had to submit to constant arrivals all through 
the first and second acts. The doors at the Star Theatre 
open right upon the audience. They were swinging 
backwards and forwards during the first half hour of 
the piece. It is a universal habit in America not to be 
seated at the time announced for the curtain to go up. 
Add to this the obstruction of the ticket-speculators, 
and the premium they offer to late comers. Sup- 
plement these disturbing elements with a wet night, 
the natural annoyance of individuals who have paid 
large premiums for their seats, the prejudice against 

Nilsson, Dr. Doremus and Mrs. Doremus, Mrs. Lester Wallack and Mrs. 
Arthur Wallack, Mr. and Mrs. William Bond, Mr. and Mrs. John Foord, 
Mrs. Charles Leland, Henry Ilosener andlNIrs. Rosener, and Mr. and Mrs. 
Theodore Moss. Among other well-known faces in the audience were 
noticed those of ex-Judg-e Horace Russell, General Horace Porter, Colonel 
and Mrs. Tobias, of Philadelphia ; General Winslow, Dr. Fordyce Barker, 
George J. Gould, John Gilbert, Rafael Joseffy, Dr. Robert Laird Collier, 
of Chicago ; Oscar Meyer and ]\Irs. Meyer, Mrs. John T. Raymond, Hariy 
Edwards, Daniel Bixby, Charles Dudley Warner, John II. Bird, Mrs. John 
Nesbitt, Miss Jeffrey Lewis, Laurence Hutton, Mr. E. A. Buck, Mr. White- 
law Reid, Colonel Knox, ex-Governor Dorsheimer, William Winter, and 
Dr. Macdonald. 



126 UIPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Irving which had been persistently promoted by his 
few but active enemies ; and you will understand the 
severity of the ordeal of this first appearance in the 
United States. 

II. 

A ROUND of applause greeted the rise of the curtain 
upon the first scene of "The Bells." The audience 
thus testified theu' desire to be kindly ; but, as the 
first part of the story was told, there was a certain -im- 
patience even in their recognition of the artistic sim- 
plicity of the scene. " The Bells " opens moije like a 
novel than a play ; and yet the suggestiveness of the 
narrative at the table, as the topers chat and drink, is 
singularly dramatic. On this first night the play 
seemed to drag, and the audience were on the tiptoe 
of expectation. Those who were comfortably seated 
were anxious for the appearance of Irving ; those 
who poured in to fill vacant seats at the back, and 
the hundreds who pushed in to stand behind them, 
created an uncomfortable sensation of disquiet. Had 
the Star been a London theatre, the patience of the 
people who were seated would have been so seriously 
taxed that they would hardly have permitted the play 
to proceed until order had been secured in all parts of 
the house. 

At last the door of the burgomaster's home-lrke inn 
is flung open, and Irving stands there in his snow- 
sprinkled furs, his right hand raised above his head 
in the action of greeting his family, his left hand 
grasping his whip . His entrance was never more natural , 



TEE BELLS. 127 

never more picturesque. The audience hardly heard 
his opening words, — "It's I!" They greeted him 
with thunders of apphxuse, and shouts of welcome. 
He presently stepped forward from the door. Those 
who knew him would not fail to detect an effort to 
control his emotions, when he bowed his acknowl- 
edgments of a greeting as spontaneous as it was 
hearty. I had seen him in his dressing-room only a 
short time before. He was anxious, but firm as a rock ; 
not in doubt of his own powers, but impressed, as any 
man might be, under similar circumstances, with the 
knowledge of how high the expectations of the people 
had been raised ; how great the task of even approach- 
ing the standard of their excited hopes. 

And now that the audience, touched by the artistic 
novelty of his appearance, and moved by their senti- 
ments of hospitality, had given vent to their feelings, 
they settled down to allow the actor, of whose methods 
they had heard so much, to conquer their favorable 
opinion if he could. Despite the prejudices of some, 
and the annoyance of those who had been victimized by 
the speculators, auditors were willing to be captured, — 
nay, were desirous, if they could honestly do so, to 
endorse the verdict of their cousins of England, as to the 
place which Henry Irving holds in dramatic art. 

" The Bells " is a weird play. Its lines are simple ; 
it never halts. Mathias is an inn-keeper. He murders 
his guest, a Polish Jew, murders him on the highway 
for his gold, and is forever haunted by his crime. 
The jangle of the sleigh-bells, as the Jew's horse gallops 
away after its master's death, is continually in the as- 



128 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

sassin's ears. Their sad music "trickles through the 
story like the ripple of a rising stream through stub- 
ble-fields in autumn. It sweeps over the dramatic 
narrative like the sighing of the wind in " chill 
October." Remorse takes possession of the criminal ; 
he dreams he is being tried for his life. 

This scene affords special opportunities for illus- 
trating Irving's dramatic magnetism. The judicial 
court of his dreamland forces him to submit to the 
operations of a mesmerist. Under this influence he 
makes confession of his crime by reenacting it. 
Nothing more weirdly suggestive can be imagined. 
Before an audience as breathless as the court, the 
actor went through the pantomime of stopping the 
Jew's horse, cutting down the Jew with an axe, 
plundering the body and thrusting it into a lime- 
kiln. Then, convicted and condemned, the murderer 
dies under the violent shock to his nerves of this re- 
tributive force of imagination, — dies while the church- 
bells are ringing for his daughter's marriage, — his last 
agonizing w^ords, "Take the rope from my throat ! " 

Only a daring artist would undertake such a part ; 
only a great one could succeed in it. Most of the 
second and last acts is a monologue ; and, in a country 
like America, which is accustomed to rapidity of 
thought and action, Irving was courageous in risking the 
result of so serious a strain upon the mind of a highly 
strung audience. The experiment, however, was entirely 
a truimph, notwithstanding the previously-mentioned 
discomforts attending an overcrowded house, and the 
rain that stormed without. 



THE BELLS. 129 

III. 

The curtain having fallen on the first act, Irving re- 
ceived the honor of a triple call, after which I went 
to his room, and found him reading some of the 
numerous cables and telegrams from home, and from 
several distant American and Canadian cities, wishing 
him success. 

" How kind everybody is ! " he exclaimed, as he 
handed me a bundle of despatches. "You should 
have seen the hundreds of telegrams and letters that 
were sent to me on board the steamer as I was leaving 
Liverpool ! " 

" You are pleased ? " 

"More than pleased," he said. "What an audi- 
ence ! I never played to a more sympathetic lot of 
people in my life. They respond to every movement 
and point of the scene with a marvellous prompti- 
tude." 

" You still feel that you are among friends ? " 

"I do, indeed." 

" I believe you played that first act to-night better 
than ever you played it in London." 

" Do you think so ? ^ Art is long and life is fleet- 
ing.'" 

There was in the atmosphere behind the footlights 
something of the electricity of a first night at the 
Lyceum, — no fuss, but a suppression of feeling, 
a kind of setting of the teeth and a girding up of 
the loins. The fine " property " horse of the vision 
scene, covered with snow that would not melt, had 



130 IMPBESSIONS OF AMEBICA. 

been dragged to the rear, and the stage was being 
set for the trial scene. Mr. Frank Tyars had donned 
his ermine as the judge, the mesmerist was ready at 
the wing, the last nail was being driven into the 
judicial bench. The local stage-hands and supers 
were at last evidently impressed with the importance 
of attention to some little matter of detail which they 
had daily tried to shirk at rehearsal. There had 
even been difficulties, on the stage and off, in regard 
to the regulation of the lights. Prominent gas- 
brackets had been removed from the auditorium, but 
the lowering of the lights down nearly to darkness 
for tlie last act of "The Bells" had been resisted. 
Later, however, Mr. Loveday found his New York 
collaborators in this respect willing allies ; and within 
the first week the man who had charge of the calcium 
lights said, "I have seen them all; every one of the 
great actors and stage-managers ; and they don't begin 
to know as much about lighting the stage as this Mr. 
Henry Irving has forgotten ! " 

A breathless silence testified to the impressiveness of 
the last act. You might almost have fancied you heard, 
in the car-bells of the streets, faint echoes of the sleigh- 
bells that jangled in the ears of Mathias. I remember 
the first night of " The Bells," at the Lyceum. The 
stillness in this New York house, as Mathias died of 
imaginary strangulation, reminded me of the London 
theatre on that occasion. The sensation in the two 
houses was the same. Nobody moved until the thud 
of the drop-curtain roller emphatically announced the 
end. Then the Star audience, as the Lyceum audience 



THE BELLS. 131 

had done before them, gave vent to their enthusi- 
asm. 

Called and recalled, Irving appeared before the cur- 
tain. Then there was a cry of " Speech ! " "Speech !" 
whereupon, he said : — 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, — I believe it is a cus- 
tom with jou to allow an actor to thank you for the 
pleasure you have given to him ; and I will avail 
myself of that custom now, to say that I thank you 
with all my heart and soul. It seems to me that the 
greatness of your welcome typifies the greatness of 
your nation. I thank you, and, ' beggar that I am, I 
am even poor in thanks.' Let me say that my com- 
rades are also deeply sensible of your kindness, and let 
me add that I hope you will give a warmer welcome, 
if such were possible, than I have received, to my 
associate and friend. Miss Ellen Terry, who will have 
the honor of appearing before you to-morrow night. 
And, finally, if it be not a liberty, will you allow me 
to express the hope ' that our loves may increase even 
as our days do grow.'" 

As the audience left the theatre, the opinions ex- 
pressed accentuated the reality of the actor's success. 
" The things that have been said about his mannerisms 
are shameful " ; " Why, he has no more mannerisms 
than Booth ! " "I never was more agreeably surprised " ; 
" He speaks like an educated American " ; " And in the 
street looks like a Yale or Harvard professor " ; " Never 
saw anything finer"; "Most awfully impressive scene, 



132 IMFBESSIONS OF AMERICA, 

that last act " ; " Stage magnetism in the highest 
de^rree " : " Guess he is safe for the bi^^s^est run of 
popularity of any actor or any man who has ever come 
to this country"; "Oh, he is immense!" "Did you 
hear Tony Pastor say it's the intensest acting he's ever 
seen, — that's a compliment, from what you may call 
a low comedian"; "Madame Nilsson, — wasn't she 
delighted? " " Yes, she wouldn't sing to-night ; would 
have a box to come and see Irvine^." These were 
some of the remarks one caught as the audience left the 
theatre, and the most practical criticism is often heard 
as one leaves a theatre among the crowd. 

Coming upon a group of critics and others I learn 
that the critic of "The Telegram" says, "Irving is, 
indeed, a revelation ! " while Mr. Oakey Hall, of 
"Truth," thanks God he has lived to see such an 
actor. Several members of the Press Club join in 
the chorus of praise. Buck and Fiske, of " The Spirit 
of the Times," smile quietly, as much as to say, " We 
told you so." The famous critic of the "Tribune" 
goes out saying, " Yes, it is great ; there is no denying 
it." Mr. Wallack, who, too ill to walk, had been 
carried to his box, expresses his hearty admiration 
of the actor whom for so many years he had longed to 
see ; and Mr. Gilbert,^ the veteran comedian and 



1 *' Twelve Americans," a graphic series of biograpliical sketches, by 
Howard Carroll, devotes some interesting pages to the story of John 
Gilbert's life and work. For upwards of fifty years an actor, this veteran 
of the American stage was born on the 27t1i of Februaiy, 1810, at Boston, 
in a house " adjoining that in which Miss Cushman, the greatest of Amer- 
ican actresses, first saw the light." Ilis parents were in a good position, 
and while they were not bigots, they did not altogether hold the theatrical 



TEE BELLS. 133 

stage-manager at Wallack's, is " impressed beyond ex- 
pression, especially with the business of counting the 
dowry." 

There is a rush of critics, reporters, correspondents, 
"down-town" to chronicle the night's success. One or 
two writers, whose eccentricities give a commercial 
value to their work, go away to maintain their lively 
reputations ; but, on the whole, it is evident tliat 
everybody, press men and public, is greatly pleased. 



profession as a highly reputable one. Young Gilbert was head of his class 
in declamation at the Boston High School. When he left school he was 
sent into a commercial house with a view to his becoming a dry -goods mer- 
chant. He disliked business, and after reciting Jaffer, in " Venice Pre- 
sei'ved," to the manager of the Tremont Theatre, he was granted an 
appearance. After opening the store where he was engaged he read with 
delight in the newspaper, that in the evening "a young gentleman of 
Boston" would make his dchut in the play of "Venice Preserved." He 
appeared and " did well," in spite of his uncle (who was his master), 
scowling at him in front. " O John ! what have you done ? " was the 
brokeu-heailed exclamation of his mother the next day. John had not 
dared to go to the store, and felt himself quite an outcast. He was for- 
given, however, in due course, and made a second appearance as Sir 
Edward jNIortimer, in " The Iron Chest." He was successful beyond his 
expectations, and as " a boy actor " was praised as a phenomenon. Later 
he joined the stock company, and was reduced to "speaking utility" 
parts. Though disliking the drudgery of his place, he grew up with his 
work, and with the physical capacity for leading business he showed that 
he had also the mental strength for it. He played with Macready and 
Charlotte Cushman at the Princess's Theatre, London. At the close of 
his engagement there he attended the leading English theatres to study 
actors and their methods. Thence he went to Paris to complete his 
studies. On his return to America he filled important engagements 
for some years at the old Park Theatre ; then he went for a time to Bos- 
ton, where he was a great favorite ; and finally he joined the AYallaclcs, 
in New York, where he has familiarized the Empire city with the best 
interpretations of Sir Peter Teazle, old Dornton, old Hardy, Sir Anthony 
Absolute, ISEajor Oakley, Master Walter, Hardcastle, Sir Ilarcourt Court- 
ley, Adams, and other higli-class comedy characters of the centuiy. He 
is still to New York what the Elder Farren was to London. 



134 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Many American journals in distant States were repre- 
sented at the theatre by their own critics and by cor- 
respondents. Long telegraphic despatches were wired 
to the leading cities of the Union ; the Associated Press 
sent out special messages ; the London journals were 
in evidence, and a new Anglo-French paper in Paris 
had commissioned its New York correspondent to cable 
some thousand or more words of Irving's opening 
night. Since the Forrest-Macready riot no theatrical 
event had created so general an interest as the first 
appearance of Irving in America. 



IV. 

Going behind the scenes, after the play, I found 
a representative of the " Herald " already ensconced in 
Mr. Irving's dressing-room. He was pressing the 
actor for his views of the audience, and for some 
contrasts of his sensations under the influence of 
this audience and others before whom he had played in 
England. At first Irving seemed inclined to say no 
more than to express satisfaction at his success. 
But the " Herald " representative was a quiet, culti- 
vated, and experienced journalist. Evidently a gen- 
tleman of education, a travelled man, and discreet, he 
led the actor into the conversational direction he desired 
him to go, and the result was a pleasant and instruc- 
tive interview : — 

" When I first stepped into view of the audience, and 



THE BELLS. 135 

saw and heard the great reception it gave me, I was 
filled with emotion. I felt that it was a great epoch in 
my life. The moment I faced the people I felt that we 
were friends. I knew that they wished to like me, 
and would go away, if I disappointed them, saying, 
* Well, we wanted to lilvc him ; but we couldn't.' Who 
could stand before such an audience, on such an occa- 
sion, and not be deeply moved? All I can say is, that 
it was a glorious reception, and typical of your great 

people." 

"But as to the merits of the audience, — theatre- 
goers will judge your acting, — what is your opinion 
of them?" 

"The audience was a fine one. Apart from the 
marks of intelligence, which could be read with the 
naked eye, it was a fine assembly. I never played 
before a more responsive or sympathetic audience. It 
did not miss a point. I could tell all through the play 
that every motion I made was being closely watched ; 
that every look, gesture, and tone was carefully ob- 
served. It is stimulating to an actor to feel that he 
has won his audience." 

" You felt confident that you had made an impression 
upon the audience, and that there was no flattery in 
the applause?" 

"After the first burst of welcome was over, yes. 
I had not been on the stage five minutes before I 
knew that I had control of my hearers, and that I 
could make every point in the play tell. Then the 
silence of the people — the gi-eatest compliment that 
could be paid to one in such a play — was always 



136 IMPBESSWNS OF AMERICA. 

succeeded by genuine applause at the end of the 
act ! " 

" Did 3^ou get such a reception when you appeared 
as jMathias first before a London audience ? " 

" Oh, no. Don't you see, I Avas comparatively little 
known then." 

"Mr. Irving, an English newspaper, a few days ago, 
expressed a hope that you would be judged by your 
merits, independent of anything that had previously 
been said or written about you, and that Americans in 
this case would not slavishly echo English opinion.^ 
Was there any trace of independence in the manner 
of the audience ? " 

"Yes, yes, — there was, certainly," said the actor, 
rising and pacing the room. " It is not presumption in 
me to say that I am sure I was judged solely on my mer- 
its, and that the audience went away pleased with me. 
There were times to-night when I could feel the sym- 
pathy of my hearers, — actually feel it." 

"The audience was quiet in the first act. The in- 
terest is w^orked up to the climax so smoothly and 
gradually that there was no opportunity for applause 
until the end?" 

"There, now, you have found one of the differences 
between the judgment of my audience to-night and 
those I have played to in London. In the first part 
of the play the English audiences laughed a great deal ; 



1 This statement and question were founded upon " Tlie Standard's " mes- 
sage, previously referred to ; but which Mr. Irving himself neither saw 
nor heard of until within a few days of the close of his New York en- 



TEE BELLS, 137 

quite boisterously, in fact, at some of the comedy 
scenes. But the absence of this to-night, I think, was 
due to the fact that the people were straining to get 
the exact run of the play, and were laboring under 
anxiety — it is not presumption if I say so — to see 
me. 

" Was there any other feature of this kind that you 
noticed ? " 

" Yes ; when Christian yields to my demand for a 
promise that he will never leave the village while I am 
alive, I say, 'It was necessary ! ' This point has gen- 
erally provoked laughter in England. To-night it 
evoked earnest applause. On the other hand, for 
the first time I heard the audience lau2rh at * Now the 
dowry to be given to our dear son-in-law in order that 
our dear son-in-law may love us.' " 

" Are you willing to be judged as an actor by to- 
night's performance, Mr. Irving?" 

" For that character, yes." 

" Is Mathias not your greatest role ? " 

"My best? Well, now, that's hard to say. There 
is no ground for comparison, — Charles the First is 
so different ; he is full of qualities that are foreign to 
Mathias. I cannot name a character in which I feel I 
am best. They afford opportunities for the display of 
different powers. I am fond of the part of Mathias, 
it is true." 

" Did your company play up to the standard of their 
work in the Lyceum ? " 

"Well, you have not seen them all; you have not 
seen Miss Terry or Mr. Howe." 



138 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

" But did those of the company 'who were in the cast 
to-night do as well as usual?" 

" They were rather slower, but quite good. Of 
course every one was excited, more or less. There 
is only one strong part in the play, and that is mine. 
Mr. Terriss was excellent. Don't you think he is a 
fine fellow?" 

Suiting the action to the word, Irving uncon- 
sciously dropped into a military attitude, stretched 
his hand out and threw back his head, — a per- 
fect fac-simile of Mr. Terriss' impersonation of Chris- 
tian. 

"Is the scenery the same that was used in the 
Lyceum ? " 

" Exactly the same. You prompt me to mention a 
particular point, now. Did you notice how little the 
scenery had to do with the play? I have it so on 
purpose. Why, there is practically no scenery. I try 
to get as near truth as possible, as Caleb Plummer 
says. I have sometimes heard that I rely on scenery. 
So far I do : if it were the hovel of King Lear I 
would have a hovel, and if it were the palace of Cleo- 
patra I would make it as gorgeous as the possibilities 
of art would allow." 

" Do you look upon your reception to-night as a 
success ? " 

" In every way. One of your greatest actors told 
me that American audiences are proverbially cold on 
first nights. He was trying to save me fi'om a 
possible disappointment. In addition to this, 'The 
Bells' is not a play for applause, but for earnest, 



THE BELLS. 139 

sympathetic silence. Need I say that the demonstra- 
tions, which burst forth on every occasion that good 
taste would allow, are the best evidences that to-night 
I have won an artistic triumph ? " 



140 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



vn. 

"RED LETTER DAYS." 

Miss Ellen Terry's First Appearance in New York — The Press on Charles 
and the Queen — A Professional Matinee — An Audience of Actors to 
See Louis XI. — IIoav they Impressed the Actor, and what they Thoug-ht 
of Him — A Visit to Henry Ward Beecher — At Church and at Home 
— Mrs. Beecher and Miss Terry — Reminiscences — Studies of Death, 
Physiological and Idealistic — Louis' Death and Hamlet's — A Strange 
Story. 

I. 

New York received INIiss Terry, on her first appear- 
ance before an American audience, as cordially as it had 
welcomed Irving. It was as Henrietta Maria that she 
spoke her first words on the stage of the New World. ^ 

1 In " Charles the First " Irving confirmed the good impression he had 
made. Miss Terry received a most cordial reception, and made so excel- 
lent an impression upon the audience, hoth by her charming personality 
and admirable acting, that long before the evening was over she had firmly 
established herself in the good graces of her new public, who more than 
once, at the fail of the curtain, invited her, with every enthusiastic mark 
of approbation, to come before the house to receive in person its acknowl- 
edgments and congratulations. Her success was unquestionable. In the 
second act the curtain fell on the conclusion of one of the grandest results 
that any actor has achieved in New York for years. A continued succes- 
sion of plaudits came from all parts of the house. The performance was 
profoundly conceived, acted out with infinite care, elaborated with rare 
skill, and invested with naturalness that deserved all praise. Irving, in his 
finale, merited fully every word that has been written of his power, in- 
tensity, and dramatic excellence; and he was enthusiastically called 
before the curtain, in order that the audience might assure him of that 
verdict. Miss Terry made the impression of a charming actress. There 
was something very captivating in the sweetness of her manner, the grace 
of her movements, and the musical quality of her tones. In acting, her 
points wei'e made with remarkable ease and naturalness. There was an 



''RED LETTER DAYS:' 141 

There is no more tenderly poetic play in the repertoire 
of the modern drama than "Charles the First." The 
story in Irving's hands is told with a truthful simplicity 
that belongs to the highest form of theatrical art. All 
the leading critics recognized this. The effect of the 
well-known Hampton Court cloth was so perfect in its 
way and so new to some of them, that it was regarded as 
a cut cloth, with " raking " and water pieces. The " Trib- 
une" interpreted the general opinion of the audience, 
when it said, " what most impressed them was Irving's 
extraordinary physical fitness to the accepted ideal of 
Charles Stuart, combined with the passionate earnest- 
ness and personal magnetism that enable him to create 
and sustain a perfect illusion " ; while it may be said to 
have just as happily expressed the views of another 
class in the words, " To the student Mr. Irvinir's 
Charles is especially significant, as indicative of the 
actor's method in applying what is termed ^ natural ' 
treatment to the poetic drama." 

"Louis XL," "The Merchant of Yenice," "The 
Lyons Mail," and " The Belle's Stratagem," were the 
other pieces produced during the four weeks in New 
York. The theatre was crowded nightly, and on the 
Saturday matinees. The speculators found it easier to 
dispose of their tickets, as the weeks w^ore on, even 
than during the first five or six days of the engagement. 
Nothing damped the public ardor. The opera war be- 

entire absence of tlieatrical effect, there was a simplicity of style in every- 
thing she did, a directness of method and sincerity of feeling that, as we 
have said, was the simplicity of true art, and yet not the exaggeration of 
the simplicity of nature. — New York Herald. 



142 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

tween Mapleson and Abbey, as representatives of two 
great parties of wealthy art patrons, had no apparent 
influence on the receipts at the Star Theatre. One of 
the greatest nights of the month marked the first ap- 
pearance of Patti at the Academy of Music. Inclement 
weather, abnormal charges for seats, strong counter- 
attractions at the other houses, including the two grand 
Italian Opera Companies, might have been expected to 
discount the financial success of any rival entertainment. 
They made no difference to Irving. He was the talk, not 
of New York, but of America ; and after her appearance 
as Portia, Miss Ellen Terry was almost as much written 
about as he himself. Unrivalled in the higher walks 
of comedy, at home or abroad. Miss Terry is as new 
to the American public in the naturalness of her 
methods, as Irving himself. 

Shy lock excited controversy, Louis inspired admira- 
tion, Dubosc and his virtuous double commanded re- 
spect, and the method of presenting the plays was a 
theme of praise and delight in and out of the press. 
Of Louis the " Sun " said " Mr. Irving won his audi- 
ence to him almost at once. It was impossible to with- 
stand the intensity, the vivid picturesqueness, and im- 
posing reality of his portrayal, and after each great 
scene of the play he was called again and again before 
the curtain by hearty and most demonstrative applause. 
It was a wonderful performance, and the impression 
that it left is one that can never be laid aside." The 
"Times" was struck with his appearance. "His make- 
up is as perfect in its kind as that of Charles the First, 
and nobody would imagine the actor to be the same 



''RED LETTER DAYS:' 143 

as the actor in cither of the other parts which he has 
presented. But the verisimilitude here goes much 
deeper than the make-up. There is the senile garrulity 
and the senile impatience of garrulity, the senile chuckle 
over successful strokes of business. And this charac- 
ter is deepened as the play advances. The occasional 
expressions of energy are spasmodic ; and after each the 
patient relapses into a still more listless apathy, and 
this decay is progressive until the death-scene, which is 
the strongest and most impressive piece of realism that 
Mr. Irving has yet given us." The "Herald" com- 
mended Shylock to the Shakespearian student, " as 
the best exposition of the character that can be seen on 
the stage" ; while the " Tribune " said of Miss Terry, 
"Her simple manner, always large and adequate, with 
nothing puny or mincing about it, is one of the 
greatest beauties of the art which it so deftly conceals. 
Her embodiment of a woman's loveliness, such as in 
Portia should be at once stately and fascinating, and 
inspire at once respect and passion, was felicitous be- 
yond the reach of descriptive phrases. Her delivery 
of the Mercy speech was one of the few perfectly modu- 
lated and entirely beautiful pieces of eloquence that 
will dwell forever in memory. Her sweet and spark- 
ling by-play in the ^ business ' about the ring and in 
her exit can only be called exquisite. Better comedy 
has not in our time been seen."^ 



^Miss Terry was born at Coventry, Feb. 27, 1848. Her parents were 
members of the theati-ical profession. Her first appearances on the stage 
were in "The Winter's Tale " and "King John" (Maraillins and Arthur), 
during the Shakespearian revivals of Charles Kean, in 1858. As Prince 



144 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



II. 

At the written request of the leading actors and 
theatrical companies of New York, Irving gave a " pro- 
fessional matinee " at the Star Theatre. The play was 
"Lonis XI." It was the first time Irving had appeared 

Arthur she had repeated the success of her eldest sister Kate, who had 
made her first appearance in the part six years previously. Mr. Irving, 
during his conversations and speeches in this book of " Impressions," has 
refei-red to the stock companies which, at one time, were the provincial 
schools which supplied London with its principal actors. When Ellen 
Terry was a girl, the late Mr. Chute presided over the fortunes of two of 
the best stock companies in the country. He was the lessee of the Bristol 
and Bath theatres, and he played his Bristol company at Bath once or 
twice a week. Some twenty years ago, I remember a stock companj'- at 
the Bristol theatre, which included Marie Wilton, Miss Cleveland (Mrs. 
Arthur Sterling) Miss Mandelbert, Madge Robertson (Mrs. Kendall), and 
her mother, Arthur Sterling, George Rignold, William Rignold, Arthur 
Wood, Fosbroke, and the fiithers, respectively, of Marie Wilton and ]SIadge 
Robertson. At that time Kate Terry and Ellen Terry had left for London, 
Ellen having joined the Bristol company at the close of Charles Kean's 
management of the Princess's. She played Cupid to her sister Kate's Diana 
in Brough's extravaganza of " Endymion" at Bristol, in 1862. She made 
her debut in London, March, 1863, as Gertrude, in the " Little Treasure." 
The critics of the time recognized in her art " an absence of convention- 
ality and affectation," and they look back now to trace in her interpretations 
of " the buoyant spirits, kindly heart, and impulsive emotions " of Gertrude 
for the undoubted forecast of her present success, more particularly in those 
characters which give full play to the natural sympathetic and womanly spirit 
of her art. From March, 1863, till January, 1864, she played Hero, in 
" Much Ado About Xothing," Mary Meredith, in " The American Cousin," 
and other secondary parts. She married and left the stage while still a 
mere child, and was not yet twenty Avhen she made her reappearance at the 
end of October, 1867, in "The Double Marriage," adapted from the French 
by Charles Rcade for the New Queen's Theatre, London. She also played 
Mrs. INlildmay, in " Still Waters," and Katharine in the ordinary stage ver- 
sion of the " Taming of the Shrew," known as " Katharine and Petruchio." 
It was in this comedy, on the 26th of December, 1867, that she and Mr. 
Irving first acted together. She left the theatre in Januaiy, 1868, and did 
not reappear on the London stage until 1874, when she succeeded ISIrs. 



''RED LETTER DAYS:' I45 

before an audience of actors in any country. The 
house was packed from floor to ceiling. It was a sin- 
gularly interesting and interested audience. No actor, 

John Wood in the part of Phillippa Chester, in Charles Reade's " Wander- 
ing Heir," which was produced Tinder the author's management at the 
Queen's Theatre. She afterwards joined Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft's com- 
pany at the Prince of Wales's, and was the Portia to Mr. Coughlan's Sh ylock, 
in the ambitious production of " The Merchant of Venice," which was to 
be a new departure in the history of the famous little house near Totten- 
ham Court Road. Shtikespeare did not prosper, however, at the Prince of 
Wales's, though his great comedy was daintily mounted, and Miss Terry's 
Portia was as sweet and gracious as the art of the actress could make that 
sweet and gracious heroine. From the Bancrofts, Miss Terry went to their 
rivals (Mr. Hare and the Kendalls) , at the Court Theatre. The sterling 
natural qualities which some critics noted in her method when a child, 
were abundantly apparent in her Olivia, a fresh, graceful, touching per- 
formance, of Avhich " Punch" said, January 11, 1879, " If anything more 
intellectually conceived or more exquisitely wrought out than Miss Teriy's 
Ophelia has been seen on the English stage in this generation, it has not been 
within * Punch's ' memory." She closed her engagement at the Court Thea- 
tre on the offer of Mr. Irving to take the position of leading lady at the Ly- 
ceum Theatre, where she made her first appearance, December 30, 1878, 
and since which time she has shared with him the honors of a scries of such 
successes as are unparalleled in the history of the stage. They include the 
longest runs everknoAvn of" Hamlet," " The Merchant of Venice," " Romeo 
and Juliet," and " Much Ado About Nothing." This is not the place to do 
more than give these brief, biographic notes of a brilliant career. But one 
is tempted to quote a singularly happy sketch of Miss Ellen Terry which ap- 
peared on the eve of her departure for America in the " St. Stephen's Re- 
view," July, 1883 : " It is well for the stage that it possesses such a gift as 
Ellen Terry. The age is, on the whole, terribly unromantic and common- 
place ; it deals in realism of a very uncompromising form ; it calls a spade a 
spade, and considers sentiment an unpardonable affectation. But Ellen 
Terry is the one anachronism that the age forgives ; she is the one living 
instance of an ideal being that the purists pardon. As she stands before 
these cold critics in her classical robes as Camma; as she drags at their 
heartstrings as the forlorn and abandoned Olivia; as she trips upon the 
stage as Beatrice ; as she appears in a wondrous robe of shot-red and gold, 
or clothed ' in Avhite samite, mystic, wonderful,' as Ophelia, or, as she falls 
a-weeping as the heart-broken queen on the breast of Charles the First, 
even these well-balanced natures pronounce her inexplicable but charming. 
She is the one actress who cannot be criticised ; for is she not Ellcu Terry ? " 



14G IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

proud of his profession, could Kave looked at it with- 
out a thrill of pleasure. Well-dressed, beaming with 
intelligence and intellectuality, it was on good terms 
with itself, and it settled down, in stalls, boxes, and 
dress-circle, with an air of pleasant expectation that 
was refreshing to contemplate.^ 

Nothing could be more satisfactory to Mr. Irving 
and to his friends, after the demonstrative applause 
of this very remarkable audience, than the "Inter- 
views " of many of the best-known actors and actresses 
which appeared in the " Herald " on the following morn- 
inof. Irvins: had no idea that such a tribute was to 



1 All that has been said in recognition of Mr. Irving's intellectual leader- 
ship, and of his puissant genius and beautiful and thorough method of 
dramatic art, was more than justified by his impersonation of Louis XI., 
given, yesterday afternoon, before an audience mainly composed of actors, 
at the Star Theatre. He has not, since the remai'kable occasion of his first 
advent in America, acted with such a noble affluence of poAver as he dis- 
played in this splendid and wondei-ful effort. It was not only an expression, 
most vivid and profound, of the intricate, grisly, and terrible nature of 
King Louis ; it was a disclosure of the manifold artistic resources, the fine 
intuition, the repose, and the commanding intellectual energy of the actor 
himself. An intellectual audience — eager, alert, responsive, qiiick to see 
the intention almost before it was suggested, and to recognize each and 
every point, however subtle and delicate, of the actor's art — seemed to 
awaken all his latent fire, and nerve him to a free and bounteous utterance 
of his own spirit ; and every sensitive mind in that numerous and brilliant 
throng most assuredly felt the presence of a royal nature, and a gi-cat artist 
in acting. Upon Mr. Irving's first entrance the applause of welcome was 
prodigious, audit was long before it died away. More than one scene was 
intciTupted by the uncontrollable enthusiasm of the house, and eight times 
in the course of the pex'formance Mr. Irving was called back upon the 
scene. A kindred enthusiasm was communicated to the other actors, and 
an unusual spirit of emulation pei-vaded the entire company and representa- 
tion At the close there was a tumult of applause, and the 

expectation seemed eager and general that Mr. Irving would personally 
address the assembly. He i-etired, however, with a bow of farewell. 
"Louis XI." will be repeated to-night. — The Tribune, November 21. 



''RED LETTER DAYS:' 147 

be paid to him when, in talking with some gentlemen 
of the press, at the close of the play, he said : — 

"I never played before such an audience, so spon- 
taneous in its appreciation and applause, and it will 
remain with me as one of the most interesting and 
most memorable events in my dramatic career. It is 
very commonly said that actors are the worst judges 
of acting. But I would ask why should actors be 
worse judges of their art than painters of paintings or 
musicians of music ? " 

" Yom- audience was very enthusiastic, was it not?" 
"It could not well have been more so. You see 
actors know well from experience that an actor, to be 
stimulated, needs applause, and plenty of it. Applause 
is as necessary to an actor as to an orator. The 
greater the applause the more enthusiasm the actor 
puts into his work. Therefore those who applaud most 
get most, and consequently my audience of this after- 
noon " — 

" Got the most out of your performance ? " 
" Well, they certainly excited me to feel the effect 
of their appreciation on my ow^n work. I felt an 
elation for them, and an elation such as I have rarely 
experienced. I happened to walk into Mr. Millais' 
studio, before leaving England. He had just finished a 
painting in which I was interested, — in fact, it was a 
portrait of myself. I found him in an extraordinarily 
cheerful mood. He clapped his hands with delight, 
as he said, pointing to the portrait, ^ Watts has just 
been here, and says it is the best thing I have ever 
done.' Millais was especially pleased, for this compli- 



148 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

ment came from a brother artist. I dare say you will 
see the parallel in this my especial pleasure in receiving 
the plaudits of my brother artists." 

" And how did the audience differ from the audiences 
you have been playing to here ? " 

"This is the distinction, I think, — actors applaud 
all the touches as you put them on ; a general audience 
applaud the whole effect when made. And so it was 
that all the little asides and touches of by-play this 
afternoon were taken with as keen an appreciation of 
them as of the whole effect of any scene or situation. 
I felt that my audience thoroughly knew what they 
were applauding for. I felt that they applauded 
myself and our company because they were really 
pleased ; and I will say again that my first professional 
inatiyiie has proved to be one of the pleasantest events 
of my life." 

"It was a great performance," said Mr. Edward Gil- 
more, one of the managers of Niblo's Garden. 

"I have seen a good deal of acting," said Mrs. Agnes 
Booth ; " but I can honestly say I have never seen any- 
thing that pleased me more : it was simply perfect." 

"I have seen most of the performances in Europe of 
recent times," said Mme. Cottrelly, who had been a 
leading German actress and manager before appearing 
on the Casino stage ; " but I have never seen anything 
that equalled Mr. Irving's performance this afternoon. 
I have never seen anything in the theatrical line that 
has been mounted more correctly. It has not been 
surpassed in the finest German court theatres that I 
have attended." 



''RED LETTER DAYS:' 149 

'* I think it is altogether one of the greatest perform- 
ances the American public and profession have ever 
seen," said Mr. Dan Harkins. "The wonderful perfec- 
tion of detail and subtlety of by-play is, I think, greater 
than I have seen in any other performance, excepting, 
perhaps, Mr. Forrest's ^King Lear.' Mr. Irving also 
is in a constant state of activity ; when he is not talk- 
ing he is acting. He is making some clever point all 
the time. The whole performance is great. It is 
great in the leading character, great in all that is sub- 
ordinate to it, which, by an excellent stage manage- 
ment and a fine company, are brought into unusual 
prominence." 

Mr. McCaull remarked : " It's a long way the fin- 
est piece of character-acting I have ever seen. Of 
course, I'm a young man, and haven't seen much ; but 
I've seen Mr. Irving twice in this part, and when I go 
to see a performance — out of my own theatre — 
twice, I can tell you that, in my opinion, it must be a 
very fine one." 

*'I am very fiimiliar with 'Louis XI.,' " said Mr. 
Harry Edwards,^ " as I have played in it myself a great 

^ Henry Edwards was born at Ross, Herefordshire, England, August, 
1831. lie finished his education under the Rev. Abraham Lander, son of 
the friend of Robert Bui-ns, and studied for the law in his father's office. 
In 1848 he became a member of the Western Dramatic Amateur Society. 
In 1853 he emigrated to Australia, passed three years in the bush, and 
went on the stage professionally, at the Queen's Theatre, Melbourne, 
under the management of Charles Young, then the husband of Mrs. Her- 
man Vezin, who was the leading lady. After supporting the late Gustavu3 
V. Brooke, he went, as leading man, to Tasmania, under the management 
of Charles Poole. Ho again joined Brooke, and for six or seven years was 
his second, playing lago, Macduff, De Maupry, Icilius, etc., becoming 
manager of Theatre Royal, Melbourne, for G. V. Brooke, in 1861. He 



150 IMFEESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

deal. I appeared as Nemours with Mr. Gustavus Y. 
Brooke, and his performance of Louis XI. was a 
very fine one. I then travelled for a year with Charles 
Kean, and played Courtier, the Physician, in ' Louis 
XL,' and once appeared with Kean as Courtier. I 
also played Nemours with Charles Couldock. Well, 
I say all this to show you that I am pretty familiar 
with the play, and with great actors who have played 
^ Louis XL' Mr. Irvino-'s Louis is one of the i^reat- 
est performances I have ever seen as a whole, and far 
superior to that of any of his predecessors. He brings 
depth, more intensity, and more variety, to the char- 
acter than any of them. His facial action is something 



afterwards ti'avelled with Mr. and Mrs. Charles Kean, playing Falcon- 
bridge, Henry VIII., Coitier, etc. In 1865 he went to New Zealand, and 
managed theatres in Auckland and Hokitiki. He left the colonies early 
in 1866, passed four months in Lima, giving, in all, thirty-three perform- 
ances in the Peruvian capital, aided by a small company. He also gave 
entertainments in Panama. Arrived in San Francisco, October, 1866, 
under an engagement to Thomas Maguire, opened in that city as Othello 
to the lago of John McCullough, and afterwards played Pythias, Sir 
Anthony Absolute, Sir Peter Teazle, Marc Anthony, and Sir John Fal- 
staif. At the opening of the California Theatre he joined Barrett and 
McCuUough's company, and remained to the close of the latter's manage- 
ment. He went to New York in 1879, and opened at "Wallack's Theatre 
(now the Star), in Byron'scomedy of " Our Girls," and has been ever since 
rt member of Wallack's company, of which he is now Stage Director. He 
is an earnest entomologist, and has one of the largest private collections 
of insects in the Avorld, numbering over 260,000 specimens. Has written 
much on his favorite study, as well as many magazine and other articles ; 
is the author of "Pacific Coast Lepidoptera," and a volume of sketches 
called " A Mingled Yarn"; is engaged to write the article on "Butter- 
flies," for Kingsley's Standard Natural History, in association with Asa 
Gray, Prof. Baird, Prof. Packard, A. Agassiz, and other distinguished 
naturalists ; and was five years President of the Bohemian Club, San Fran- 
cisco, three years Vice-President of the California Academy of Sciences, 
and one year President of the Lambs Club, New York. 



''RED LETTER DAYS:' 151 

wonderful. His performance stands on the highest 
phme of dramatic excellence, and on the same plane as 
Macrcadj's famous Werner. I may say that I am 
not an admirer of Mr. Irving in all parts, but his Louis 
is unapproachable. I never enjoyed a performance so 
much in my life, and I felt that I could sit it out for 
a week if I were given the opportunity." 

" He is the greatest actor who speaks the English 
language," said Mr. Lev/is Morrison. "I claim to 
know what good acting is. I have supported Salvini, 
whom I regard as the greatest artist on the foreign 
stage, and my preceptor was Edwin Booth. But even 
in Mr. Booth's presence I must say that I have been 
moved to-day as I never was before. I am not given 
to gushing over an actor ; but I never before saw a 
man's soul, as I did in King Louis this afternoon. It 
was simply perfection. It was not the actor ; it was 
Louis XL that I saw. I must admit that I went to 
the theatre with a little prejudice against Mr. Irving. 
I had never seen him, and, from certain things which 
other actors had told me, I was prepared to find an 
overrated man. But what a performance it was ! It 
was wonderful ! — wonderful ! " 

Mr. W. A. McConnell, manager of Haverly's Brook- 
lyn Theatre, said : " He is a great actor. I have never 
before seen such conscientious attention to detail, such 
harmony in everything, from the people on the stage 
with him, down to the smallest thing. It is a lesson 
for us all." 

" As a manager," said Mr. Palmer, of the Union 
Square Theatre, " it was a revelation to me to see such 



152 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

conscientious attention to detail. Every little thing in 
which good stage management could have been exhib- 
ited was shown by Mr. Irving's company. They 
worked as one man. I have heard but one opinion 
among members of our company, — everybody was de- 
lighted." 

"What can I say that is strong enough?" exclaimed 
Miss Gary, of the Union Square Theatre Company. 
"I was delighted beyond measure. What a wonderful 
teacher Irving must be, and what a master of his art in 
every way ! What impressed me particularly was the 
perfect harmony of the entire performance. How care- 
fully and patiently everybody must have been drilled, 
and every detail which would add to the effect looked 
after ! " 

Mr. Osmond Tearle said : " I had seen Mr. Irving 
in everything except ^ Louis XI.' before to-day's mat- 
inee, and I have always admired him greatly as an 
actor. Now I have seen him as Louis XL I admire 
him still more. It is the greatest thing I have ever 
seen him do. His business, as he Avarmed himself at 
the fire, was remarkable. When he came on in the 
last act, he looked like one of the fine old royal figures 
that stand outside Yorkminster in England ; and when 
he took his crown off he looked like the picture of 
Father Time. His facial expression is astonishing, 
and in the wonderful death-scene his eyes seem to have 
gone altogether. The whole performance was fine ; 
there was not a bad part in it." 

" I have only one word to say on this subject," said 
Mr. John Gilbert, "and that is, that it is wonderful; 



''BED LETTER BAYS:' I53 

perhaps I, however, may supplement that by say in o- 
that it is * extraordinary.' I have seen Mr. Irving 
play * Louis XI.' before to-day, and, in fxct, I have 
attended nearly all his performances at the Star Thea- 
tre ; but this afternoon he exceeded anything that he 
has done here before. He was clearly moved, in no 
slight degree, by the almost incessant aj^jplause of his 
professional brethren. I don't know that I remember 
having seen a greater performance by any actor, not 
even excepting Macready's Werner. I am not aston- 
ished at Mr. Irving's great popularity in England. I 
am sure he deserves it." 

"I had never seen Mr. Irving before this afternoon," 
said Mr. James Lewis, " and I was certainly not dis- 
appointed, although I had formed the highest expecta- 
tions of him as an actor. There was a young actor, 
about nineteen years old, that sat by me, and he got 
on his scat and yelled 'Bravo I' Now, I didn't do 
that ; but I was just as much pleased and excited as 
the youngster. I think it was the greatest perform- 
ance I ever saw. You have, perhaps, heard the popu- 
lar gag, ''That man tires me.' Well, that man, Mr. 
Irving, tired me ; but it was because he so wrought 
upon my feelings that when the play was over I felt so 
exhausted I could hardly leave my seat. The stage 
setting and management were good, but I have seen 
as good in this city before." 

Mrs. G. H. Gilbert, of Daly's theatre, thought that 
it was the finest performance within her experience. 
"In the confession scene," she said,' 'I thought him 
especially remarkable. I had seen him in ' The Lyons 



154 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Mall ' in London, and, now that I have seen his * Louis 
XL,' I want to see him in all his characters. The great 
applause that was given him by the vast gathering of 
his profession was, I assure you, not complimentary 
applause, but it was given in pure admiration of his 
great achievements." 

"Mr. Irving's Louis," said Mr. Dan Frohman, "is 
a vivid and powerful transcript from history. Once 
or twice, at the end of an act, he lapsed into his 
natural voice ; but this may be excused from the great 
draught that such a character must make upon his 
strength. As a picture of the subtle, crafty, and ava- 
ricious old monarch, his representation was absolutely 
perfect. I think Mr. Irving's ^ Louis XL,' in a word, 
is a sort of dramatic liberal education. Every actor 
can learn something from him. I wish our actors could 
keep the integrity of their characters as perfectly as 
Mr. Irving does." 

" Mr. Irving is the greatest actor I have ever seen," 
said Mr. Tony Pastor. "I have been to see him 
several times, and this is my opinion. It aint bun- 
combe. It comes from the heart. I've seen all the 
greatest actors, and have been a great deal to the 
theatres since I have been in this business ; but I have 
never seen any one as good as IVIr. Irving. This is a 
compliment I am paying to a man I am not personally 
acquainted with, and perhaps we shall never meet. I 
don't praise him so because I had an invitation this 
afternoon ; I would have admired and applauded his 
performance just as much if I had paid a twenty-dollar 
bill for it." 



''BED LETTER DAYS:' 155 

"Mr. Irving's Louis," Mr. Colville said, "is superior 
beyond criticism. It is the most perfect performance 
I have ever witnessed. I was acting manager of the 
old Broadway Theatre when Charles Kean played 
there, and, of course, saw him in the part." 



III. 

" If one had arranged events in America to one's 
own likins: one could not have had them 2:0 alonir 
more pleasantly," said Irving, one Sunday afternoon, 
when he was giving me an account of his visit to Mr. 
Henry Ward Beecher and Mrs. Beecher, at Brooklyn ; 
"indeed, one would have had to lay in a stock of 
vanity to even dream of such a reception as we have 
had. It needs a little hostility here and there in the 
press at home, and on this side, to give a wholesome 
flavor to the sweets. It is a great reward, all 
this, for one's labor. I was struck the other day 
with some passages of Emerson, in his essay on 
Fate, where he says, * Concentration is the secret of 
strength in politics, in war, in trade ; in short, in all 
manao^ement of human affairs.' One of the hiofh 
anecdotes of the world is the rej)ly of Newton to the 
inquiry, how he had * been able to achieve his discov- 
eries' : ^ By always intending my mind.' Diligence j^ccsse 
sens^ Henry VIII. was wont to say, or. Great is drill. 
John Kemble said that the worst provincial company 
of actors would go through a play better than the best 
amateur company. No genius can recite a ballad at 
first reading so well as mediocrity can at the fifteenth 



156 IMFBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

or twentieth reading. A humorous friend of mine 
thinks the reason Nature is so perfect in her art, and gets 
up such inconceivably fine sunsets, is, that ^she has 
learned at last by dint of doing the same thing so very 
often.' A wonderful writer, Emerson ! He gives the 
right cue to all stage-managers, — rehearsal ! rehearsal ! 
Mr. Beecher has evidently been a hard- worker all his 
life, a persistent man ; and nothing is done without it. 
First lay down your lines ; settle what you mean to do, 
what you find you can do, and do it ; the greater the 
opposition the more courageous and persevering you 
must be ; and if you are right, and strength and life 
hold out, you must win. But I want to tell you about 
the visit to Brooklyn. Miss Terry and I were invited 
to visit Mr. Henry Ward Beecher. We went on 
Sunday to his church. He preached a good, stirring- 
sermon, full of strong common-sense. It was what 
might, in some respects, be called an old-fashioned 
sermon, though it was also exceedingly liberal. The 
spirit of its teaching was the doctrine of brotherly love. 
The preacher told his congregation that a man was not 
simply a follower of Christ because he went to church 
on Sundays. A man could, he said, be a follower of the 
Saviour without going to church at all. He could also 
be a follower of Christ, if he wished, and belong to any 
church he liked, — Baptist, Wesley an, Lutheran. A 
Pagan could be a follower of Christ if he lived up to His 
doctrine of charity. To do good is the chief end and 
aim of a good life. It was an extemporaneous sermon 
so far as the absence of manuscript or notes went, and 
was delivered with masterful point and vigor, and with 



" BED LETTER DAYS:' 157 

some toachcs of pure comedy ; Mr. Beecher is a 
great comedian. After the service Mr. Beecher came 
to us, and offered his arm to Miss Terry. She took 
one arm, his wife the other. I followed with his 
son, and several other relations. A few members 
of the congregation joined the little procession. Fol- 
lowing Mr. Beecher with the ladies, we walked down 
the aisle and into the street, to his house. There was 
something very simple and dignified about the whole 
business, something that to me smacked of the primitive 
churches, without their austerity. Mrs. Beecher is 
seventy-one years of age, — a perfect gentlewoman, 
Quaker-like in her dress and manners, gentle of speech, 
but with a certain suggestion of firmness of purpose. 
Beecher struck me as a strong, robust, genial, human 
man, a broad, big fellow. We had dinner, — the early 
dinner that was in vogue when I was a boy. It was, I 
should say, a regular solid New England meal, — rich 
soup, plenty offish, a joint of beef; and some generous 
port was on the table. The host was most pleasant 
and simple ; the hostess, most unsophisticated and 
kindly. She took greatly to Miss Terry, who also 
took greatly to her." 

"Mr. Beecher had been at the theatre the night be- 
fore?" 

"Yes, to see ^ Louis XL"' 

"Did he talk much?" 

" Oh, yes ! and his conversation was most interesting. 
He related, and very graphically, an incident of the 
troubled times before the abolition of slavery. ' One 
day in the pulpit,' he said, 'I asked my people, 



158 IMPEESSIOlsS OF AMERICA. 

suppose you had a sister, and she came to you and 
said, "I would like to stay in your city of Brooklyn; 
I think I would be very happy here ; but I must go 
away, I cannot stay ; I must depart, probably to live 
with a reprobate, some hard, cruel man, who will lay 
claim to me, body and soul." You say, "Why, why 
must you go?" She answers, "Because my body is 
worth so much, and I am to be sold ; and my little 
child, it, too, is of value in the same way ; my child 
will be sold, and we shall be separated." There was a 
dead silence in the church. ' My friends,' I said, 
* you have a sister in that position ; and I want you to 
buy that woman!' " Come up here, Dinah Cullum" 
(or whatever her name was), I said, and out of the 
congregation stepped a beautiful woman, a mulatto, and 
I said, " Here she is ; here is my sister, your sister ! " 
The collecting basket was sent around. More than 
enough was realized to buy the woman. And I said to 
her, " Dinah Cullom, you are free." Then addressing 
my people again, I said, " Now you can buy the child" ; 
and they did, and we gave the child to its mother ! ' 

"It used to be said of Lord Beaconsfield," Irving 
continued, " that his Oriental blood and his race instincts 
gave him his fondness for jewels ; but Beecher seems to 
have the same kind of taste. He brought out from a 
cabinet a handful of rings, and asked me which I 
thought Miss Terry would like best. Then he took 
them to her and she selected an aqua marina^ which 
he placed upon her finger, and begged her to accept as a 
souvenir of her visit to Brooklyn. ' May I?' said Miss 
Terry to Mrs. Beecher. ^ Yes, my dear, take it,' said 



''RED LETTER DAYS.'' 159 

Mrs. Beecher ; and she did. It was quite touching 
to see the two women together, so different in their 
stations, their years, their occupations. Miss Terry 
was the first actress Mrs. Beecher had ever known. 
To begin with, she was very courteous ; her greeting 
was hospitable, but not cordial. The suggestion of 
coldness in her demeanor gradually thawed, and at the 
close of the visit she took Miss Terry into her arms, 
and the two women cried. ^ One touch of nature makes 
the whole world kin.' Human sympathy, — what a fine 
thing it is ! It is easy to understand how a woman of 
the training and surroundings that belong to the class in 
which Mrs. Beecher has lived might regard an actress, 
and especially one who has made a name, and is there- 
fore the object of gossip. All the more delightful is 
the bit of womanly sympathy that can bind together 
two natures which the austerity of professed religionists 
would keep asunder." 

"It is a greater triumph for the stage than you, per- 
haps, quite appreciate, — this visit to the home of a 
popular preacher ; for, however liberal Mr. Beecher's 
sentiments may be in regard to plays and players, there 
are members of his congregation who will not approve 
of his going to the theatre, and who will probably be 
horrified at his entertaining you at his own home." 

"No doubt," Irving replied. "Beecher said to me, 
'I wish you could come and spend a week with me at 
my little country-house. You might leave all the talk- 
ing to me, if you liked. I would give you a bit of a 
sermon now and then, and you in return should give me 
a bit of acting. Oh, we should have a pleasant time ! 



IGO IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

You could lie on your back and smoke and rest. I 
suppose some day you will allow yourself a little rest.' " 

" What was the Beecher home like ? New or old, — 
characteristic of the host or not ? " 

"Quite characteristic, I should say. It impressed 
me as a home that had been gradually furnished over a 
period of many years. That was particularly the case 
with regard to the library. Around the walls were a 
scries of cabinets, with old china and glass in them. 
The room had an old English, or what I suppose would 
be called an old New England, appearance. Books, 
pictures, china, and a wholesome perfume of tobacco- 
smoke. Mr. Beecher does not smoke, but his sons 
do. 'I cannot pretend to put down these small vices,' 
he said. ^I once tried to, I believe.' — ^Oh, yes,' 
said one of his sons, a fine fellow, — ^the only 
thrashing he ever gave me was for smoking a cigar ; 
and when the war broke out, and I went to the front, 
the first present I received from home was a box of 
cigars, sent to me by my father.' Altogether I was 
deeply impressed with Beecher. A robust, fearless 
man, I can quite understand how great he might be in 
face of opposition. Indeed, I was witness of this on the 
occasion of his famous platform fight at Manchester, 
during the war. I was acting in a stock company there 
at the time, and either in the first or last piece, I forget 
w^hich, I was able to go and hear him speak. The inci- 
dent, as you know, is historical on this side of the Atlan- 
tic, and it created quite a sensation in Manchester. The 
lecture-room was packed with secessionists. Beecher 
was attacking the South, and upholding the Federal 



''BED LETTER DAYS.'' IGl 

cause. The great, surging crowd hooted and yelled at 
him. I fear I did not know much about the rights 
or wrongs of the matter. I had my work to 
do, and, though I watched the course of the 
American trouble, I had no very definite views 
about it. But I admired the American preacher. He 
faced his opponents with a calm, resolute face, — stood 
there like a rock. Whenever there was a lull in this 
commotion he would speak, and his words were defiant. 
There was the sound of the trumpet in them. We 
English admire courage, worship pluck, and after a 
time the men who had tried their hardest to shout 
Beecher down evidently felt ashamed. There pres- 
ently arose cries of ^ Hear him ! ' and ' Fair play ! ' 
Beecher stood there firm and defiant, and I felt my 
heart go out to him. Once more he got a few words 
in. They bore upon the rights of free speech, and in 
a little while he had the floor, as they say in America, 
and kept it. It seemed as if he were inspired. He 
spoke with a fervid eloquence I don't think I have ever 
heard equalled. In the end he carried the entire meet- 
ing with him. The crowd evidently knew no more 
about the real merits of the quarrel between North and 
South than I did. They entered the hall Confederates, 
and left it out-and-out Federals, if one should judge by 
the thundering cheers that broke out every now and 
then during the remainder of Beecher 's oration, and the 
unanimous applause that marked the finish of it." 



162 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



rv. 

Among the little suppers which Irving accepted 
after the play was a cosey entertainment given by 
Major Frank Bond, at which a dozen gentlemen of 
distinction in politics, science, and the army, were 
present. Dr. Fordyce Barker, who was intimate with 
Dickens, during that illustrious author's visits to 
America, was one of the guests. He started, among 
other subjects, a very interesting conversation. 

"Have you ever made studies of deaths for stage 
purposes ? " asked Dr. Barker. 

":n"o." 

" And yet your last moments of Mathias and of Louis 
XI. are perfectly consistent and correct psycho- 
logically." 

" My idea is to make death in these cases a charac- 
teristic Nemesis ; for example, Mathias dies of the fear 
of discovery ; he is fatally haunted by the dread of being 
found out, and dies of it in a dream. Louis pulls him- 
self together by a great effort of will in his weakest 
physical moment, to fall dead — struck as if by a 
thunderbolt — while giving an arrogant command that 
is to control Heaven itself ; and it seems to me that he 
should collapse ignominiously, as I try to illustrate." 

" You succeed perfectly," the doctor replied, " and 
from a physiological point of view, too." 

" Hamlet's death, on the other hand, I would try 
to make sweet and gentle as the character, as if the 
^flights of angels winged him to his rest.'" 

" You seem to have a genius for fathoming the con- 



^'BED LETTER DAYS:' 163 

ceptions of your authors, Mr. Irving," said the doctor; 
" and it is, of course, very important to the illusion of a 
scene that the reality of it should be consistently main- 
tained. Last night I went to see a play called 'Moths,' 
at Wallack's. There is a young man in it w^ho acts 
very well ; but he, probably by the fault of the author 
more than his own, commits a grave error in the man- 
ner of his death. We are told that he is shot through 
the lungs. This means almost immediate unconscious- 
ness, and a quick, painless death ; yet the actor in 
question came upon the stage after receiving this fatal 
wound, made a coherent speech, and died in a peaceful 
attitude." 

" Talking of interesting psychological investigations," 
said Irving, " I came upon a curious story, the other day, 
of the execution of Dr. de la Pommerais, in 1864. He 
was a poisoner, somewhat after the Palmer type. I was 
present, then a boy, during the trial of the English mur- 
derer, and was, therefore, all the more interested in the 
last hours of the Frenchman. He was a skilled physician, 
it seems, and a surgeon named Yelpeau visited him in 
his prison, the night before his execution, in the pure 
interest of physiological science. 'I need not tell 
you,' he said to de la Pommerais, 'that one of the most 
interesting questions in this connection is, whether any 
ray of memory or sensibility survives in the brain of a 
man after his head is severed from his body.' The 
condemned man turned a startled and anxious face to 
the surgeon. 'You are to die ; nothing, it seems, can 
save you. Will you not, therefore, utilize your death 
in the interest of science ? ' Professional instinct mas- 



164 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

tered physical fear, and de la Pommerais said, * I will, 
my friend ; I will.' Velpeau then sat down, and the 
two discussed and arranged the proposed experiment. 
*When the knife falls,' said Velpeau, 'I shall be 
standing at your side, and your head will at once pass 
from the executioner's hands into mine. I will then 
cry distinctly into your ear : "Count de la Pommerais, 
can you at this moment thrice lower the lid of your 
right eye while the left remains open ? " ' The next 
day, when the great surgeon reached the condemned 
cell, he found the doomed man practising the sign 
agreed upon. A few minutes later the guillotine had 
done its work, — the head was in Yelpeau's hands 
and the question put. Familiar as he was with the 
most shocking scenes, it is said that Velpeau was 
almost frozen with terror as he saw the right lid fall, 
while the other eye looked fixedly at him. ' Again,' 
he cried frantically. The lids moved, but they did not 
part. It was all over. A ghastly story. One hopes 
it may not be true." 



A QUIET EVENING, I65 



VIII. 
A QUIET EVENING. 

A First Visit beliind the Scenes — Cooper and Kean — The University 
Club — A very Notable Dinner — Chief Justice Davis and Lord Chief 
Justice Coleridge — A Menu worth Discovering — Ten-apin and Canvas- 
Back Duck — "A lattle Family Party" — Florence's Romance — 
Among the Lambs — The Fate of a Manuscript Speech — A Stoiy of 
John Kemble — Words of Welcome — Last Night of the New York 
Engagement — Au Revoir ! 

I. 

"Turn the gas down a little." 

"Yes, sir," said the attentive Irish- American waiter 
at the Brevoort House. 

"And don't let us be disturbed." 

"Very well, sir." 

" The fire-light glows on the walls as if the so-called 
volcanic sunset had taken possession of the place," 
said Irving, stretching his legs upon the hearth ; " what 
a rest it is to sit and talk to a friend and look into the 
fire ! " 

"It is, indeed. Let us have a chat in that spirit, 
and call the chapter ' A quiet evening.' " 

" You mean a talk for the book ? " 

" Yes ; one gets so few opportunities of this kind 
that it is worth while to avail ourselves of the present 
one. I think you had better tell me what you have 
done in New York, and I will chronicle it from your 
own lips." 



166 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

"Do you mean generally, or in detail? There 
are some things that fix themselves in one's memory 
not to be forgotten. Of course, the first night 
at the Star Theatre — one is not likely to forget 
that ! " 

"No, I shall always remember you standing in the 
door-way of the burgomaster's inn. It had seemed as if 
hours were passing between the rise of the curtain and 
your appearance ! " 

" Ah ! I dare say ; we were all more or less anx- 
ious." 

" But let us get away from the theatre. What do 
you look back upon so far, to remember with special 
pleasure, in the w^ay of social entertainment and xlmer- 
ican hospitalities ? " 

"It is difficult to select, is it not? It is bewildering 
to try to select the incidents. The Lotos dinner, — 
that was glorious, eh ! How well Whitelaw Reid 
spoke ! and Mr. Depew, Dr. Macdonald, General Por- 
ter, Mr. Oakey Hall, — everybody, in fact. A great 
gift to be able to express your thoughts well, stand- 
ing up in the presence of others ! Then the Lambs 
Club. I felt their reception as a very pleasant thing, 
because there were so many actors present. I think 
I got well out of the speech-maldng there by adopting 
Florence's written oration. That amused me greatly, 
and I think Florence enjoyed it as much as the others. 
Well, those are two of the New York events. I am 
endeavoring to think of them in their order, categori- 
cally. The breakfast which Mr. Joseph Harper gave 
me at the University Club, — what a rare lot of men ! 



A QUIET EVENING. 1G7 

Mr. Georcce William Curtis^ struck me as one who 
might be very eloquent as a speaker." 

"He is." 

" So I should have thought, and he talks of the stage 
with the unsophistication of one who knows nothing 
about it mechanically, but is full of the romantic and 
poetic spirit of it. Let me see, it was at Frank- 

1 On a later occasion Mr. Curtis (whose eloquence on the platform and 
in the press, and whose independent career in politics, are familiar to all 
Americans and to many En;^lish) and Mr. Joseph Harper had a box to see 
" The Merchant of Venice." Irving invited them to go behind the scenes, 
and afterwards to join him at supper in his room at the Brevoort. Mr. 
Curtis said it was the first time he had been on that side of the foot-lights. 
" I am not sure whether I regret it or not ; I think I am sorry to have the 
illusion of that last lovely scene at Belmont set aside even for a moment." 
While he was talking to Miss Terry in her dress as the Lady of Belmont, 
Loveday'smen were bringing on some of the scenery of" The Lyons Mail." 
Said Harper, "Behind the scenes is always tome a good deal like the 
'tween decks of a ship; the discipline is just as strict, too." During the 
evening after supper Mr. Curtis discussed with his host the question of how 
much an actor may lose himself in a part, and still have full control over it 
and himself. Irving said circumstances sometimes influenced an actor. 
An event which had disturbed him during the day might give extra color 
to his acting at night. In fact an actor is influenced by all sorts of causes, 
— as all other people are in their daily work, — by health or weather. 
Sometimes the presence of a friend in front, or some current occurrence 
of the moment, or piece of bad or good news, might influence him ; but, 
as a rule, after an actor had played a particular part for a long time, he 
genei-ally played it very much in the same way every night. " There 
is a story," he said, " of Kean and Cooper which is to the purpose. A 
friend met Kean, and told him that on a pai-ticular night he was at 
the theatre, and thought that Kean played Othello better than ever he 
had seen him play it. ' Gad, sir,' he said, ' I thought you would have 
strangled lago outright ! ' Now we come to the solution of this extra 
energy which had impressed Kean's friend. * Oh, yes,' said Kean ; * it 
was a Tuesday night, I remember; Cooper tried to get me out of the 
focus ! ' In those days the theatre was lighted with oil lamps, and only 
at one particular place on the stage could the actors be seen. To be in the 
light was to be in the focus ; and that accounts for the old habit they had 
of getting into a line along the foot-lights." 



168 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

lin square where we saw that modern Dutch in- 
terior." 

" The private room at Harper Brothers ? " 
"Yes, and where we again met Mr. Curtis, Mr. 
Alden, the editor of the magazine, and Mr. Conant of 
" The Weekly," I remember. Don't you think that 
when America once takes up the work of a complete 
representation of legitimate and established plays she 
will go ahead at it as fast as she has done in the pro- 
duction of book-engravings ? " 
«Ido." 

" And they tell me — actors tell me — that they 
have never had Shakespeare as completely and as wor- 
thily represented as at the Star this week. Mr. Gil- 
bert says it will work a revolution in dramatic art in 
this country." 

'^The papers are beginning to say so all round." 
" I confess I am as surprised as I am delighted. 
I thought more had been done in the w^ay of harmoni- 
ous representation, grouping, color, painting, lighting, 
than is evidently the case. By the way, I heard a 
good deal about this on the night of the Century Club 
reception.^ They were very like Garrick men, many 

1 Among the gentlemen present on this occasion were Messrs. Daniel 
Huntington (the president), Gilbert M. Speir (vice-president), A. E.. 
MacDonough (secretary), Henry A. Oakey (treasurer), F. A. P. Barnard 
(President of Columbia College), Albert Bierstadt (the artist), Noah 
Brooks (journalist and author), L. P. di Cesnola, S. S. Conant; Profs. 
Botta, Dwight, Flint, Alexander, and Lusk; Judges Choate, Brown, and 
Daily ; Bishop Potter, the Rev. Dr. Rylance, the Rev. Dr. Stoirs, the 
Rev. Dr. Brooks ; the Honorables John Bigelow, John Hay, J. G. Forrest, 
and Edward Mitchell; Mr. Joseph Drexel (the banker), ex-Governor 
Wiiiiam Dorsheimer, ex-Mayor Edward Cooper, Col. Goddard, Gen. 



A QUIET EVENING, 169 

of them. An excellent idea having an exhibition of 
pictures at a club ! I suppose it would hardly do in 
London to allow members such a margin in regard to 
the friends they introduce as in New York. I wish it 
could be done, and, especially, that granting of the 
entire privileges of the club to the stranger whom you 
invite to dinner. In case of transient membership, the 
compliment we pay to a stranger at the Garrick does 
include all the privileges of the club. The Manliat- 
tan is a cosey club. We got our first canvas-back in 
New York there. It was a little too early in the sea- 
son ; but in the way of a terrapin and canvas-back 

dinner the feast Buck o^ave us at Sicf^^hortner's was a tri- 
es C3 

umph.^ It scored by its simplicity. Let me see, I 

Cullum and Gen. Horace Porter, Dr. George Otis, and Messrs. "VV. Dodge, 
Wm. M. Evarts, Cyrus W. Field, Swain • GifFord, Eichard W. Gilder, 
Quincy A. Gillmore, Parke Godwin, II. H. Gorringe, I. H. Gourlie, G. S. 
Greene, M. K. Jessup, S. E. Lane, Francis F. Marbiiry, C. H. Marshall, 
H. D. Noyes, O. Ottendorfer, 11. E. Pellew, Whitelaw Reid, Jas. Renouck, 
R. G. Remson, A. Thorndike Rice, William Bond, J. F. Ruggles, John 
O. Sargent, W. Satterlee, Clarence A. Seward, R. II. Stoddard, li. C. 
Van Vorst, Theodore Weston, Alfred Wilkinson, and many other w-ell- 
known members of the club and their friends. 

1 This was a very notable gathering on November 18. In nearly every 
case the guests came from long distances. They were all men of distinc- 
tion in their several walks of life. Among them were, James II. Rutter, 
President New York Central & Hudson River Railway ; Hon. Noah Davis, 
Chief Justice Supreme Court, State of New York ; Geo. R. Blanchard, Vice- 
President New Y''ork, Lake Erie, & Western Railway ; Gen. Horace Porter, 
President New York, West Shore, & Buffiilo Railway ; John B. Carson, 
Vice-President and General Manager Hannibal & St. Joseph Railway, 
Hannibal, Mo. ; Col. P. S. Michie, U.S. Army, West Point ; Hon. A. J. 
Vanderpoel, New York; Hon. Wm. Dorsheimer, Member of Congress and 
ex-Lieut.-Governor New York ; Col. L. M. Dayton, Gen. Sherman's Chief 
of Staff during the war, Cincinnati, O. ; Jas. N.Matthews, Proprietor Buffalo 
"Exi^ress," Buffalo, N.Y. ; Hon. Henry Watterson, ex-M.C. and editor 
"Courier Journal," Louisville, Ky. ; Col. Wm. V. Ilutchings, Governor's 



170 IMFBESSIONS OF AMEBIC A, 

have the menu here. Now to look at it in comparison 
with what is called a swell dinner, some people would 
think its dishes wanting in variety and number. Some- 
body, I remember, said at the time, * This is a man's 
dinner ! Let us dissect it ! '" 

staff, Boston, Mass. ; Col. II. G. Parker, Proprietor " Saturday Evening 
Gazette," Boston, Mass. ; Col. Wm. Edwards, Cleveland, O. ; Hon. L. J. 
Powers, Springfield, Mass. ; Hon. M. P. Bush, Buffalo, N.Y. ; John B. 
Lyon, Chicago, 111. ; Hon. A. Oakey Hall, ex-Mayor of New York City ; 
Lord Buiy, W. J. Florence, William Winter, Stephen Fiske, J. H. Fi-ench, 
and Chas. Wyndham. The dinner was not reported in the press ; nor were 
several other entertainments which are briefly sketched in the pages of 
these " Impressions." 

The Chief Justice spoke in eloquent terms of Lord Coleridge, whom the 
American bar and bench had been proud to honor, and who, in his private 
and public life, realized the highest ideal of the American people. "It is 
our desire," he said, "the sincerest wish of America, to like the English 
people. We are always afraid that our visitors from the old country will 
not let us like them. When they do, and we can honestly respond, Ave are 
glad." Presently, alluding to Irving, he said, " We have watched your 
career over a long period of time, through the New York papers. We 
TS^ere prepared to be interested in you, and to bid you welcome. No people 
are more moved than ours to exercise their free and unbiased judgment. We 
have done so in your case, and are proud to acknowledge the greatness of 
the work you have done ; to welcome you and to take your hand, not only 
for what you have achieved in England, but for what you have done for us 
in America." 

Ex-Mayor Oakey Hall, in the course of some remarks supplementary 
of the speech of the Lord Chief Justice, said, " A morning cable despatch 
infoi-ms me that the Millais portrait of our guest was yesterday added to 
the Avails of the Garrick Clab, in completion of its gallery of David Garrick's 
legitimate successors. But on the waUs of our memories to-night has been 
hung the original, — impressive features, poetic eyes and hair, and a face so 
bright that it this moment reflects our looks of pei-sonal affection. I have 
had the personal felicity, thrice within the past fortnight, of seeing our 
guest in the serenity of private life. Friends knowing this have said to me, 
* How did you like Henry Irving on the stage ? ' And I have answered, 
•I have not yet seen Mr. Irving act.' True, I had seen on the stage of 
the Star Theatre, Mathias, and Charles the First, and Louis the Eleventh, 
and Shylock, and Duboscq and Lesergne, and against these characters 
I had seen printed on the bills of the play the name of Henry Irving ; but 



A QUIET EVENING. 171 

He had fetched the menu from his table, had returned 
to his seat by the fire, and was holding the ca7'te 
before his face, partly to read it, and partly to ward 
off the glow of the hot coals. 

"Now,^rs^, oysters on the half shell, and I noticed 

never had it otherwise occurred to me, as an auditor, that the guest now 
before us, — original of the Millais picture, — and whom I saw at the ban- 
quets of the Lotos and Manhattan chibs, was representing these characters. 
On the contrary, I cannot connect Henry Irving, the gentleman of private 
life, with the actor. If you say he is the same, I must believe you. Indeed, 
I am now conscious of having lived in the seventeenth century, and of 
having beheld the veritable Charles as a man caressing his children and 
his Henrietta Maria, — a wife rather than a queen, — on the banks of the 
Thames, at Hampton Court, or as Majesty rebuking Oliver Cromwell. 
Nay, I have stood with Charles himself in the Whitehall Chamber of Death, 
and with my own streaming eyes I have witnessed his touching farewell of 
home and earth. I have forgotten the merchants of New York in the boxes, 
and I have really seen Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice. I have seen 
the dreaming victim of remorse. I have lived in the war-rent realms of 
France, while Louis the Eleventh infected his court with his own moral 
leprosy. I have known in * The Lyons Mail,' the self-respecting and 
shrinking merchant, and I have known his double, the besotted brute of 
a murderer. They are all realities to me at this moment. If you again 
teli me one man personated all these, and that this one man was the 
original 3'onder of the Millais portrait, I must believe you, for your 
honor's sake. During an active career of a quarter century I never had 
seen an approach to such a surrender of personal identity in an actor, nor 
such a surrender of the peculiai-ities of one i-epresentation when the actor 
grasped another. How all this contradicts a lively writer in the current 
(November) number of Clement Scott's ' Theatre,' who declares that eveiy 
great success of the stage is duo to a correspondence of the natural 
peculiarities of an actor with the fictional peculiarities of the character 
portrayed ! Is yonder gentleman a victim to remorse ? Is he a Shylock ? 
Is he a Duboscq ? Has he the soul of a Charles ? Least of all, has he one 
peculiarity of Louis ? No. Then these great successes are won — if 
yonder guest be the actor — by a destruction of personal peculiarities and 
by portraying his own precise opposites, in his human nature. You have 
all seen these recently enacted characters. You noAV — some of you for 
the first time — behold the man Henry Iiwing, and hear him converse. To 
you as a jury, then, I appeal. Am I not right ? Is not my experience 
yours ? " (Aye ! — Y'es ! — Y"es ! — and great applause.) 



172 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

they were on the half shell. That is the proper way 
to serve an oyster, and they should be in their own 
liquor.^ They were lying on a bed of crashed ice, — 
did you notice? The dainty half of a lemon was 
placed in the centre of them. Shall you include this 
conversation in the book?" 

This last question he asked suddenly. 

" Oh, yes ! I think it will be very interesting." 

"Then they will say I am a gourmand."^ 

1 '• Bathed in their own liquor." — Sir Henry Thompson. 

2 In case this charge against Irving should be exploited liy the "little 
English correspondent" who undertakes to describe his "Palace on the 
Thames," let me say that for one who talks so well about eating, Irving — 
next to a great authority on gourmandize — recently dead, alas! — is the 
most moderate diner I know. He discourses of dishes with the eloquence 
of Brillat Savarin, and cats as frugally as the "Original Walker" did, 
and is as easily contented as was my late friend, Blanchard Jerrold ("Fin- 
Bee"), who wrote so much, and ahvays so well, about the art of dining, 
that those who did not know him might naturally have regarded him a-s a 
goui'mand. He knevv the literature of "the table " thoroughly, but lived 
as simply as Irving does. It will be noted that it is the simplicity of the 
dinner under notice that awakens Irving's enthusiasm. New York, by the 
way, has many restaurants, in addition to its most famous one (Delmoni- 
co's) and the house in Lafayette place. The Hoffman ?Iouse and the 
Brunswick are well-known for their excellent cuisine. Among the hotels 
that are equally famous for their chefs are the Everett House, the Wind- 
sor, the St. James, the Victoria, and the Clarendon. The latter is to 
New York what such establisnments as Morley's and the oldest West End 
hotels are to London. It is one of the pleasantest, and certainly the 
quietest, of New York houses. There are very bad hotels in the United 
States, and very good ones ; dear hotels, and hotels where the charges are 
fair; but the general idea of uniform excellence and uniform dearness 
which obtains in England is incorrect. One class of houses which the 
English traveller misses is the comforta))le family inn or tavern (where the 
landlord and landlady are in evidence all the time), common in England, 
France, and Germany; and the other absent luxuries, for the lack of wliich 
oysters and canvas-back ducks do not altogether compensate him, are the 
mutton-chop, the beefsteak, the ham and bacon, the sole, salmon, and 
bloaters of his own country. 



A QUIET EVENING. 173 

"Who?" 

"Some of our friends in London." 

He emphasized the word " friends." 

" They do now ; you are reported as giving suppers 
and banquets in London on a grander scale than ever 
Lucullus dreamed of? " 

" Am I ? Well, I like to have my friends around me ; 
but I think they appreciate a mutton-chop, a glass of 
fine wine, and a good cigar, as much as we do, and, after 
all, Dr. Johnson says, "The man who can't take care 
of his stomach can't take care of anything else." If to 
be a gourmand, or, rather, let us say goiumiet,^ is to 
enjoy a well-cooked and elegantly served little dinner 
or supper, then I plead guilty to the soft impeachment ; 
so let us go on eating the Sieghortner banquet over again, 
just as we shall, I hope, in future years sit down and 
re-fight our American victories by an English fireside. 
To return to the bill of fare. Second, soup. A vege- 
table soup, that reminded me a little of the cock-a- 
lukie which is so well constructed at the Garrick in 
London, only that the vegetable basis of it is in an 
esculent we have not, — the gumbo, or okra, which is 
so delicious here. Sauterne with the oysters, and a 
remarkably fine sherry with the soup. Third, terrapin. 
I am told this came from Baltimore ready for the cook." 



1 " The difference between a gourmet and gourmand we take to be this : 
a gourmet is he who selects, for his nice and learned delectation, the most 
choice delicacies, prepared in the most scientific manner ; whereas the gour- 
mand bears a closer analogy to that class of great eaters, ill-naturedly 
(we dare say) denominated or classed with aldermen." — Haywood's Art 
of Dining. 



174 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

" They are celebrated at Baltirnore for the three great 
American dishes, — oysters, terrapin, and canvas-back 
ducks. Terrapin is prepared there and shipped to all 
parts of the United States, and even to Europe. I am 
told that a Baltimore firm sends in the season supplies 
of terrapin and canvas-backs to England for the table 
of the Prince of Wales." 

"Indeed," he answered, " His Royal Highness knows 
what is good ! I wish he could have tasted tlie Balti- 
more terrapin at Sieghortner's. Buck is a friend of the 
Duke of Beaufort, and the duke, they say, is up to all 
the luxurious tricks of American cooking. 

" Now we are at the terrapin. It was handed round 
very hot, and, as your plate was removed, a fresh sup- 
ply, better still, it seemed to me, was placed before you. 
It is polite to ask for terrapin twice ; but, that no one 
might be embarrassed, it was served twice. Cham- 
pagne and Burgundy with the terrapin. I prefer 
champagne. ^Next to going to heaven,' said a friend 

near me, 'is to go down to , Baltimore, and eat 

terrapin.' Fourth, canvas-back duck. An entire 
breast of the bird on each plate. A chip-potato and a 
little celery ; you should eat nothing else with a canvas- 
back duck, though some persons, I observe, take cur- 
rant or cranberry jelly with it. As in the case of the 
terrapin, there were two courses of duck, — the first, 
roast ; the second, grilled and devilled. An excellent 
notion this. A soujfle followed ; then cheese ; then 
coffee. That was the dinner ; and it was one of the 
greatest successes I remember, in the way of dining ; 
though I do not forget how perfectly we had terrapin 



A QUIET EVENING. 175 

and canvas-back cooked in our own humble little kitchen 
at the Lyceum Theatre." 

" In responding to the toast of your health, you were 
very much moved." 

"I was. Chief Justice Davis supplemented the 
host's words so eloquently, and with so much heart and 
earnestness, that he touched me deeply. Then his refer- 
ences to England, — to Lord Coleridge representing the 
high estate of the Bench, and to myself as being con- 
sidered worthy in every way to represent my art, as he 
in his way is to represent his high calling, — and his ten- 
der tributes to the old country, and to the deep, sincere 
friendship that lies at the root of the relations between 
England and America, — this was all so sympathetic. 
And when I knew that many of the men around the 
board who cheered him so warmly had come as far as 
a thousand miles to meet me, I could not have at- 
tempted to say more than to try and thank them. 
There are occasions when silence is the best, when 
' Gentlemen, I thank you ; my heart is too full to say 
more,' is about the most eloquent speech you can make. 
Mr. John B. Lyon came all the way from Chicago in 
response to Buck's invitation ; Mr. John B. Carson 
came from Quincy, — a day's journey further than Chi- 
cago ; he had been fifty-two hours on the train ; Mr.Wat- 
terson, — what a bright, witty fellow he is ! — came al- 
most as far, from Louisville in the South." 



176 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



II. 

" The supper given to me by Mr. Florence, at the St. 
James Hotel, was also an entertainment to remember. 
Quite a little family party, was it not? Mr. Jerome — 
Larry, as his friends call him — was splendid ; and how 
many years of local dramatic history he had at his 
fingers' ends ! We were quite a little family party ; 
Gilbert, Edwards, JeflPerson, — God bless him ! — they 
were among the guests. Florence, if you remember, 
had after supper a great brass urn placed upon the table, 
sat before it, and made whiskey toddy. How well actors 
understand the art of sociability ! 'Now, friends, let us 
gather round the tea-table,' said Florence, ' and tiy the 
brew ! ' We pronounced it ' nectar for the gods,' and so 
it was. Do you remember the interesting episode of his 
boyish days that Florence told us? I repeated it to 
some people who supped here the other night. It is 
worth printing, with his permission." 

"And that of Mrs. Florence?" I suo^orest. 

"Oh, yes, of course ! I think I remember it. Flor- 
ence was a very young man, a boy, in fact, and was 
filling one of his first engagements on any stage at the 
Bowery Theatre. A girl about his own age (who is 
now a wife, and a woman of position, in New York) in 
the company, was his first love. His adoration was 
mingled with the most gallant respect. Their salaries 
were about ten to twelve dollars each a week. For a 
time they only played in the first piece ; for in those 
days two plays a night Avere more popular on the 
American stage than -they are now. One evening, at 



A QUIET EVENING. 177 

about nine o'clock, after pulling himself together for 
so daring an effort in his course of courtship, he asked 
her if she would go to an adjacent restaurant and take 
something to eat. The house was kept by a person of 
the name of Shields, or Shiells. The supper-room 
was arrano^ed somethin": after the manner of the old 
London coffee-houses. It had compartments divided 
off from each other. Into one of these Florence es- 
corted his sweetheart. He asked her what she would 
take. After some hesitation, and a good deal of blush- 
ing (more probably on his part than on hers) , she said 
oyster-stew and lemonade. He concluded to have the 
.same, — an incongruous mixture, perhaps; but they 
were boy and girl. Florence was more than once on the 
eve of declaring his undying passion and asking her to 
name the day. Presently, supper being ended, they 
rose to go, and Florence discovered that he had come 
away without his purse, or, rather, his pocket-book, as 
they call it here. He explained to the Irish waiter (and 
Florence, I suspect, is himself of Irish descent), who 
cut him short by saying, 'No money? Oh, that won't 
do ; you're not going to damage tlie moral character 
of the house, bringing of your girls here, and then say 
you can't pay the bill.' — 'How dare you, sir!' ex- 
claimed Florence, the girl shrinking back. ' Dare ! 
Oh, bedad, if you put it that way, I'll just give you a 
piece of my mind ! ' and he did. It was a dirty piece, 
which hurt the poor young fellow. 'Take me to 
your master,' he said. The girl was crying ; Florence 
was heart-broken. The master was not less rude than 
the man. ' Very well,' said the boy ; ' here's my watch 



178 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

and ring. I will call and redeem them in the morning 
with the money. I am a member of the Bowery Com- 
pany, and I will ask the manager to call and see you 
also. Your conduct is shameful ! ' — ' By heaven, it is ! ' 
exclaimed a stranger, who, with some others, was 
smoking near the desk of the clerk, or landlord. *It 
is infamous ! Cannot you understand that this young 
gentleman is a good, honest young fellow? Damme ! 
you ought to apologize to him, and kick that waiter- 
fellow out. Don't frown at me, sir. Give the young 
gentleman his watch and ring. Here is a fifty-dollar 
bill; take what he owes, and give me the change.' 
The stranger was a well-dressed gentleman, with white 
hair ; not old, but of a venerable appearance. They 
all went out together, Florence, the young lady, and 
their benefactor. As they stepped into the street, 
Florence said, 'I cannot sufficiently thank you, sir. 
Where shall I call and leave the money for you ? ' — 
* Oh, don't trouble yourself about it,' said the benevo- 
lent gentleman ; ' your surly friend won't make much 
out of the transaction, — it was a counterfeit bill that 
he changed for me.'" 



III. 

Irving did not expect to be called upon for a set 
speech at the Lambs Club. The President, Mr. 
Florence, did, and was prepared. He made no secret 
of his nervousness, nor of his arrangements against 
failure. The manuscript of his address was lying 
before him during the dinner. He consulted it occa- 



A QUIET EVENING. I79 

sionally, to the amusement of his neighbors. When the 
time came he rose, his speech in his hand, his heart in 
his mouth. The most eminent of actors have felt 
similar sensations under the influence of an exaggerated 
sense of the responsibility of maldng a public speech. 
This banquet of the Lambs was not reported in the 
newspapers. As in other instances where I have ven- 
tured to annex speeches and incidents for these pages, 
I have done so with the full consent of all the parties 
concerned. 

"Gentlemen," said President Florence, "we have 
met to-night to do honor to a brother actor, — for in that 
character do we welcome the distinguished guest of the 
evening, — an artist who has done more to elevate and 
dignify our calling than any actor that ever trod the 
stage." 

A ringing cheer greeted these few sentences. The 
applause evidently disturbed the speaker's memory. He 
consulted his MS. and could make nothing: of it. 
Throwing it upon the table, he continued his address. 
The few unstudied sentences that followed came from 
the heart, and were sufficiently effective. They com- 
mended Irving as an example to all of them, — an ex- 
ample of work, of unostentation, of success worthily 
won and worn, and expressed the gratification it aiforded 
the Lambs — a club largely composed of actors — to 
welcome him at their board. 

" I'll never make another speech as long as I live ! " 
exclaimed the president, as he resumed his seat. 

"Give me the manuscript," said Irving. "Do you 
mind my using it ? " 



180 IMFBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

"Not at all, my dear friend ; do what you like with 
it." 

Irving, rising to reply, stood up with the president's 
unspoken speech in his hand. Referring to the diffi- 
culties actors often experience in regard to public 
speaking, he said, "At Edinburgh, recently, looking 
over the old ' Courant,' I came across an incident 
apropos of the present occasion. It was concerning a 
dinner given to John Kemble in that city. 'The chair 
was taken at six o'clock by Francis Jeffrey, Esq., who 
was most ably assisted by the croupiers, John Wilson 
and Walter Scott,' — the creator in fiction of poor, old, 
wretched King Louis XL — Walter Scott, the mighty 
master of romance, who also proposed this night ' The 
Memory of Burns.' (Applause.) In reply to the 
toast of his healtli, John Kemble said, 'I am not suc- 
cessful in extemporaneous delivery ; actors are so much 
more in the habit of giving utterance to the thoughts of 
others than in embodying their own, that we are much 
in the same position witli those animals who, sub- 
sisting by the aid of others are completely lost when 
abandoned to their own resources . ' Gentlemen , brother 
actors, I feel that I am in a similar condition to-niijht. 
(Cries of ' No ! no ! ' and laughter.) But my friend, the 
president, has given me leave to avail myself of the 
eloquent speech which he had written, but has not read 
to you." (Laughter.) 

Irving looked down at the president for his final 
consent. 

" Certainly, go ahead," was the response. 

"The president," said Irving, reading the MS. 



A QUIET EVENING. 181 

amidst shouts of laughter and applause, "was anxious 
to tell you that ^ the efforts of the guest of the evening 
have always been to make his dramatic work in every 
way worthy the respect and admiration of those who 
honor our art ; and at the same time he has been none 
the less indefatigable in promoting the social and in- 
tellectual standing of the profession ; this has been to 
him a hibor of love.' " 

Irving read these lines with mock-oratorical show ; 
but when the lauo'hter of his hearers chan2;ed to loud 
applause, he laid aside the written speech of his friend, 
and in a few simple words expressed himself proud of 
the honor the club had done him, and grateful for the 
cordiality of its welcome. 

"There is one point, however, in that speech which 
I would like you to hear," said the president, rising 
again, "and it is this: 'We are not here to pass an 
opinion on Mr. Irving's qualities as an actor, — the 
critics have done that already ; and, if you had at first 
any doubts as to the high position he should occupy 
in our profession, the American critics and your own 
judgment have removed them. Possibly it was just 
as well that David Garrick did not live in the White 
Star epoch, for, had he ever crossed the Atlantic 
ocean, his bones might not now be reposing so 
peacefully under the ancient towers of Westminster 
Abbey.'" 

During the evening Mr. Henry Edwards,' of Wal- 
lack's, recited with stirring effect the following : — 

1 These lines were written by Mrs. Marion Fortescue, a lady well known 
in New York society. 



182 UIPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



WELCOME TO HENRY IRVING. 

Round about the board of banquet 

Blazed the bright wits of the town : 
"A royal toast," and well they drank it • 

" 'Tis for a king to wear the crown; 
Thrones may totter in the tempest, 

Empires, too, may rise and fall; 
But a king, by grace of genius, 

Sits secure above them all." 



Thus, a grave and graceful poet, 

And his glowing glass uplifts 
With a warm eye-flash of welcome 

To the Man of Many Gifts ; 
Then a clamor and kindly clinking 

Like sudden song breaks round the board, 
And the soul of the wine they're drinking 

Seems into their own souls poured. 



And, •' Huzza for our guest, King Irving; " 

From a hundred hearty throats. 
And the lovingly lengthened greeting, 

Like a chorused chime, up floats — 
When more swift than an earthly echo 

Bursts a sound over guest and hosts. 
Strangely shrill, yet faint and far off, — 

" Way there for the coming ghosts ! " 

Into statued silence stricken, 

Stand and gaze the speechless throng, 
While the walls slide wide from side to side 

As if moved in grooves along. 
And a shadowy stage, whose footlights 

Loom white through a weirdly mist, 
Is peopled with phantoms of players 

Trooping in as if keeping a tryst. 



A QUIET EVENING. 183 

Then with buskined steps and soundless, 

Streaming forward as a tide, 
Surge the serried shades of actors 

Whose greatness time has testified ; 
And their brows are bound with bay-leaves, 

And their garments' phantomed fold 
Shape out the bygone costumes 

Of the parts they played of old. 

All the fine and famous faces 

In the records of the stage, 
Canonized in highest places 

On the drama's brightest page I 
Their " brief hour " made eternal. 

Where the deathless laurel nods. 
And where Shakespeare reigns supernal 

In the green-room of the gods ! 

There, each grandly visioned visage, 

Looking through a mellow haze 
On the spell-bound reverent watchers 

With a long, fraternal gaze, 
Whose mute and mighty meaning 

Seem, like a benediction, cast 
O'er the promise of the present, 

By the high priests of the past ! 

Then, at an unseen, silent signal, 

Given by some mystic chief, 
Each of the ghosts of great ones 

Erom his own wreath plucks a leaf. 
And fleeter than arrowed lightning 

Through space a chaplet's sped! 
And the brow of the actor living 

Is laurelled by actors dead ! 

And a sigh sweeps over the silence, 
And the walls are walls again, 



184 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

While the lights flash up to'brightness, 
And sparkles the gold champagne ; 

And the joyous voice of the poet 
Rings out the blended toasts, 

" Huzza for our good guest, Irving I " 
And "Huzza for our grand old ghosts I 



IV. 

Foe the last night of the New York engagement the 
programme was a novelty, in every respect, to a New 
York audience. Custom confines the night's entertain- 
ment in American theatres to one piece. On this 
occasion the play-bill contained the first act of " Rich- 
ard III."; the Lyceum version of ''The Belle's Strat- 
agem " ; the, in England, well-known recitation of 
"Eugene Aram"; and Irving was also expected to 
make a speech. The programme was played to an en- 
thusiastic audience ; and, at the close of " The Belle's 
Stratagem," Mr. Irving addressed them as follows : — 

" Ladies and Gentlemen, — A month ago, standing 
before you for the first time, and stimulated by your 
most kind welcome, I expressed the hope that our 
loves might increase as our days did grow. You, on 
your part, have fulfilled my dearest wishes, and I can 
but hope that we have not disappointed you. On that 
same first night I bespoke your good-will for my sister 
artist, Ellen Terry. I felt sure that she would win all 
hearts, and I believe she has. For her, for all my 
comrades, and for myself, I thank you for your enthu- 
siastic and generous indorsement of our work. I am 



A QUIET EVENING. 185 

sorry that the time has come when I must leave you. 
I am glad that I have not yet to say ^ Good-by,' but 
only ^ Au 7'evoir.' In April next we shall have the 
honor — if all be well — of appearing before you 
again, and I would propose to present to you 
'Much Ado About Nothing' and 'Hamlet.' In my 
old home, on the other side of the Atlantic, these plays 
are often performed by us ; and I hope they will be wel- 
come in — if I may say so — my new home on this 
side of the sea. And now, ladies and gentlemen, with 
a grateful remembrance of your kindness, I must say 
' Jiu revoir.' I find no words to adequately express my 
gratitude to you ; indeed, I would feel but little, if I 
could say how much." 

Retiring for a few minutes, Irving, in evening 
dress, returned to the stage. A chair was placed in 
the centre of it. Now standing, now sitting, he re- 
cited Hood's dramatic poem. The audience sat spell- 
bound. Even as Mathias^ with the accessories of the 
mysterious court-scene, Mr. Irving had not held New 
York play-goers with a firmer grip. They followed 
the grim story almost in silence. The ancient 
mariner's narrative did not more impress the wedding- 
GTuest. I have seen all kinds of audiences in both hem- 
ispheres, and under all sorts of circumstances, and never 
saw a theatre full of people more under the control of 
a story. At the end the applause was loud and con- 
tinued for some minutes, the reciter having to bow his 
acknowledgments again and again. The next day a 
discriminating critic pointed out to one of Irving's few 



186 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

opponents, that "the pseudo critic who pronounced 
Irving's ' Bells ' a mere success of lime-lights, prop- 
erties, scenery, and stage-management," had been quite 
extinguished " by the recitation of Hood's ' Dream of 
Eugene Aram,' delivered in evening dress, without 
any lime-lights, properties, scenery, or stage-manage- 
ment." 

"And," added a journalistic writer in the "Herald" 
" aside from the artistic success Mr. Irving has made 
here the financial result should be considered very satis- 
factory. The total amount received from subscriptions 
and box-office sales for the four weeks' engagement is 
$75,687. The receipts for the first week were $15,772 ; 
for the second week, $18,714; for the third week, 
$18,880, and for the week closing last evening, $22,321. 
It has been estimated that the public paid altogether, to 
speculators and to the box-office, upwards of $200,000. 
Judged, therefore, by the financial standard of the box- 
office, as well as by that of the highest criticism, New 
York's answer to the London " Standard " was a full 
and complete endorsement of the English popularity of 
Henry Irving and Ellen Terry. 

But it remained for Boston, Philadelphia, and Chi- 
cago, to pronounce upon them. The campaign was 
only in its infancy, though the first stronghold had been 
won. An advance was made upon Philadelphia, on 
the day following the recitation of " Eugene Aram." 
The reader who follows the fortunes of the campaigners 
in these pages will find the record justified by independ- 
ent pens, and supported by the current chronicles of 
the entire Union. 



IN clover:' 187 



IX. 

AT PHILADELPHIA AND "IN CLOVER." 

Rivalries of American Cities — Boston and Philadelphia — The Ileal and 
the Picturesque — Miss Terry's Portia — " Three Kinds of Criticism" — ■ 
First Appearance as Hamlet — Miss Terry's Ophelia — Journalism and 
the Stage — Critics, Past and Present — Philadelphia and English Cities 
— A New Style of Newspaper — Bogus Eeports and Interviews ; an 
Example of Them — The Clover Cluh — A Letter from an Eminent 
American Tragedian— Presented with Forrest's Watch— The Maci'cady 
Trouble — Hamlet, and an Invitation from Guest to Hosts. 

I. 

" The rivalries between American cities," said Irving, 
" seem to take a far more aggressive form than the ri - 
valry between England and America, or even between 
France and England ; I mean in regard to their criti- 
cisms of each other, and their hostile chaff or badi- 
nage in regard to each other's peculiarities." 

" Is it not very much the same in England ? " 

"Perhaps." 

" Sheffield scoffs at Birmingham, Liverpool sneers at 
Bristol, Manchester is supercilious concerning Lon- 
don," I said. 

"And London mildly patronizes the whole of them. 
I think you are riglit ; but one does not notice the com- 
petition at home so much, perhaps, as in America. 
Boston and Philadelphia seem to indulge in a good deal 
of badinage at each other's expense." 



188 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

" And they are both sarcastic about the morality of 
Chicago." 

"A Boston friend of ours," said Irving, " was teUing 
me yesterday of a little war of words he had with a 
Philadelphian. Said Boston to the Quaker, 'Well, 
there is one thing in which you have the best of us.' — 
' Glad you admit one point in our favor anyhoAV ; what 
is it?' — * You are nearer to New York than we are.' 
Our Boston friend is fond of New York, takes his 
holidays there ; says he likes it nearly as well as Lon- 
don. A less subtle, but more direct, hit at Philadelphia 
was that of theBostonian, who, in reply to the question 
of a Philadelphian ; ' Why don't you lay out your streets 
properly?' said, 'If they were as dead as yours we 
would lay them out." 

"Looked at from a balloon," I said, "Philadelphia 
would have the appearance of a checker-board. Bos- 
ton, on the other hand, would present many of the 
irregular features of an English city. Both cities are 
eminently representative of American characteristics, 
and both are possibly more English in their habits, 
manners, and customs, than any other cities of the 
Union." 

"There is nothing dead about the Philadelphia streets, 
so far as I have noticed them," Irving replied. "This 
morninof I walked alono^ Chestnut street, and thouo^ht it 
particularly lively and pleasant. The absence of the 
elevated railroad struck me as an advantage. I felt that 
when walking down Broadway, in New York. Then the 
cars in the street itself did not rush along at the New 
York pace. These seem to me to be advantages in 



♦'IZ/ CLOVERS 189 

their way on the side of life in Philadelphia. Perhaps 
one feels the rest, too, of a calmer city, a quieter at- 
mosphere." 

We are sitting near a front window at the Bellevue, 
looldng out upon Broad street. Presently we are 
joined by the interviewer, and Irving is not long before 
he is en2:ao^ed in a conversation about the actor's art, 
and his own methods. 

"Every character," he says, " has its proper place on 
the stage, and each should be developed to its greatest 
excellence, without unduly intruding upon another, or 
impairing the general harmony of the picture. Nothing, 
perhaps, is more difficult in a play than to determine 
the exact relation of the real, and what I may call the 
picturesque. For instance, it is the custom in Alsatia 
for men to wear their hats in a public room ; but in a 
play located in that country it would not do to have a 
room scene in which a number of men should sit around 
on the stage with their hats on. There are reasons why 
they should not do that. In the first place, their hats 
would hide their faces from the audience. It is also an 
incongruity to see men sitting in the presence of an au- 
dience with their heads covered. Then, again, the at- 
tention of the audience would be distracted from the 
play by a feeling of curiosity as to the reason why the 
hats were not removed. These are little things that 
should be avoided ; but in general they are not likely to 
intrude themselves where proper regard is paid to the 
general appearance of a scene. The make-up of the 
stage is exactly like the drawing of a picture, in which 
lights and colors are studied, with a view to their effect 



190 mPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

upon the whole. There is another feature. 1 would 
not have the costume and general appearance of a com- 
pany of soldiers returning from a war exactly the same 
as they appeared when the men were starting for the 
battle-field. I would have them dishevel their hair and 
assume a careworn aspect, but yet appear in clean 
clothes. Everything on the stage should always be 
clean and pleasant." 

The subject of realism being mentioned, he said his 
death in " The Bells " had been called very realistic, 
whereas the entire story was unrealistic, in the strict 
sense, particularly the trial and death. " Dramati- 
cally poetic, if you like," he said, " but not realistic. 
There are so-called realisms on the stage that are no 
doubt offensive, — overstrained illustrations of the 
pangs of death, physical deformities, and such like. 
As for the interest of an audience in the person who is 
acting, the knowledge that what they see is an imper- 
sonation has its intellectual attractions for them. For 
instance, it would not be satisfactory to see an old man 
of eighty play ' King Lear ' ; but it would be highly 
satisfactory to an audience to know that the character 
was being portrayed by a man in the vigor of life. As 
you look upon a picture you do not see something that 
is real,. but something that draws upon the imagination. 

" Perhaps there is no character about which such a 
variety of opinions has been expressed as that of 
Hamlet, and there is no book that will give any one 
as much opportunity of understanding it as the * Vari- 
orum Shakespeare ' of Mr. Horace Howard Furness. 
He is still a young man, — he is not an old man, — and 



''IN clover:' 191 

I trust that he will be able to complete the whole of the 
work that he has begun, and I hope that some one will 
follow in his footsteps. It was a labor of love, of 
most intense love to him, and he has earned the grati- 
tude of all readers of Shakespeare. 1 hope I shall 
meet him." 

II. 

The Chestnut Street Theatre, where Irving appeared 
on November 28, is a handsome brick building. The 
width of the stage at the proscenium is thirty-three 
fcetf depth forty feet, height of proscenium forty feet. 
There are three tiers of seats, which will accommodate 
one thousand five hundred people. The theatre was 
first opened in 1863, under the management of William 
Wheatley, with Edwin Forrest as the leading actor. 
The interior was reconstructed in 1874, and improved 
in 1875, with results that make the house singularly 
elegant and comfortable. Among the audience on the 
first night of Irving's appearance were his old friend 
Mr. McHenry, and a party of relatives and friends ; 
the latter including Lord and Lady Bury, whom he and 
Miss Terry, and several of his fellow-travellers, met at 
a number of social receptions during the week. 

Irving's Louis made just as profound an impression 
here as in New York. " No finer performance has been 
seen on the Philadelphian stage for many years," said 
the "Ledger." — "From his first appearance on the 
stage to the moment when he falls dead upon the floor, 
he rose from climax to climax, and held, not the hearts, 
but the minds, of his audience captive," said the " In- 



192 IMPHESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

quirer" ; and they give the cue to the general criticisms. 
The other plays were equally well received. Shylock 
excited the usual controversy as to Shakespeare's inten- 
tions, but none as to Irving's interpretation of his own 
views. The critics, on the whole, were the honest 
mouth-pieces of the audiences in regard to their enjoy- 
ment of the entire play. A writer, who confessed to 
disappointment in Miss Terry's Portia, and who counted 
Shylock's business as above his elocution, had no words 
to express his admiration of the entire setting of the 
piece, which he described as " a discovery and a con- 
quest." It is no reflection upon the literary skill and 
critical powers of the Philadelphia press, when it has to 
be admitted that here and there the notices bore evi- 
dence of an influence preceding IMr. Irving's appear- 
ance, notably in their criticisms of Hamlet. 

"There are three kinds of criticisms," said Irving, 
when discussing this point one evening after a quiet 
supper : " the criticism that is written before the play ; 
the criticism tliat is more or less under tlie influence of 
the preconceived ideas that are associated with previous 
representations by other actors ; and the criticism that is 
bona fide a result of the night's performance, and also, 
in a measure, an interpretation of the opinions of the 
audience. What I mean by a criticism written before 
the play is the notice that has been partially prepared 
beforehand, in connection with the literature of the 
subject, and the controversies as to the proper or 
improper views taken of the character under dis- 
cussion. These start in on one side or the other, just 
as the writer feels about it, irrespective of the art that 



*'IN CLOVERS 193 

is exercised by the actor. This is more particularly 
the case in regard to Shy lock and Hamlet. As to the 
latter character there is the natural loyalty some 
writers feel towards what is called the established or 
accepted Hamlet of the country. It is not given to all 
men to feel that art is universal, and of no country. 
Don't think I am complaining ; I am not. I am try- 
ing to justify some of the Philadclphian notices of 
Hamlet, which were in opposition to the verdict of the 
audience before whom I played it in America for the 
first time." 

" You were warned that Philadelphia claims to occupy 
the highest critical chair in America ; and tliat, of all 
other cities, it would be the least likely to accept a new 
Hamlet, especially a Hamlet that aims at being natural 
as against the artificial school ; or, in better words, an 
impersonation as opposed to the so-called traditional 
school of declamation." 

" I think that decided me to play Hamlet for the 
first time in Philadelphia ; and I never played it to an 
audience that entered more fully into the spirit of my 
work." 

" I have never," said a Philadclphian, " seen an 
audience in this city rise and cheer an actor as they 
cheered you when you took your call after the play 
scene in Hamlet. Such enthusiasm is unknown here. 
Miss Terry and yourself both might have had scene- 
calls of the most cordial character. You both refused 
them; it is a rule, I understand, with you to do so. 
The excitement of some audiences would have been 
dampened by these checks. Not so yours, — the calls 



194 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

at the close of the play were quite phenomenal for 
Philadelphia." 

A numerous company of critics and reporters came 
from New York, Boston, and other cities, to be present 
at Irving's first appearance in Hamlet. ISTo where at 
any time during the tour were the influences of London 
so apparent as in the criticisms of Hamlet at Philadel- 
phia ; most of them entirely out of harmony with the 
warmly expressed satisfaction of one of the most in- 
tellectual and high-class audiences ever gathered to- 
gether in the Chestnut Street Theatre.^ For instance, 
the "Evening Bulletin" found in the duelling scene remi- 
niscences of "ajsthetic sketches from ^ Punch,' " and the 
" Press " said " It is unfortunate that Du Maurier has 
taken Miss Terry as the model of the aesthetic set. 
The curly blonde hair, delicate face, and soft, clinging 
robes reminded one so often of 'Punch's' caricature, 
that it was difficult to take it seriously." There is, in 
certain critical circles of Philadelphia, the same kind of 
aiFectation of a knowledge of English thought, and a 
following of London taste, as there is in London in re- 
gard to French art and French criticism. The audience 
at the Chestnut Street Theatre had no difficulty in 



' Mr. Irving presented a Hamlet last evening that was entirely con- 
sistent with itself and with the play, and the most vii'ile, picturesque, and 
lovable Hamlet that has been seen on the stage. There was great variety 
in his moods and manners. He realized Goethe's idea of a born prince, — 
gentle, thoughtful, and of most moral nature, without the strength of 
nerve to make a hero, and overcome by the responsibility put upon him by 
a vision whose message he alternately accepts and doubts. There was, 
indeed, the fullest variety given to the part ; it was dramatically interesting, 
and a clearly marked, intelligent study that more than realized the expecta- 
tions that had been formed of the personation. — Philadelpliia, Ledger. 



''IN clover:' 195 

taking Miss Terry's Ophelia seriously. There was 
hardly a dry eye in the house during her mad scene. 
The " Bulletin " critic aired his knowledge of English 
affectation by associating her with " Burns-Jonesism " ; 
but the " Times " found " Miss Terry's Ophelia tender 
and beautiful, and pathetic beyond any Ophelia we have 
lately seen." The "Record" described it as " sweet and 
unartificial as the innocent and demented maiden 
Shakespeare painted for us." Said the " Inquirer," in 
a criticism of singular literary force : — 

In the play scene, in which he seemed to fill the whole stage, 
in which a real frenzy appeared to fall upon his mind, he jus- 
tified by the greatness of his acting almost all that has been or 
could be said in praise of it. So grandly and impressively did 
he bring the scene to a close as to call down thunders of ap- 
plause from an audience that he had thrilled and swayed by a 
power undeniably great. If that scene was ever before so 
nobly played we were not there to see it done. Mr. Irving 
rose to greater heights of excellence as the play proceeded. 
From the moment Miss Terry put her foot upon the scene she 
held and controlled her audience as she would. Never before 
upon our stage has there appeared an actress who played 
Ophelia with such lovely grace and piteous pathos. To all who 
saw this most perfect performance it was a revelation of a 
higher, purer, and nobler dramatic art than they had ever seen 
or dreamed. What she did just here or there, or how she did 
it, cannot be told. Over it all was cast the glamour of the 
genius in which this fine woraan is so greatly blessed. She 
does not seem to act, but to do that which nature taught her. 



196 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



III. 

Talking of criticism and the press, the press and 
the stage, one evening, Irving expressed some vievs^s in 
regard to the influence and relations of the newspaper 
and the theatre which are full of suoforestiveness and 
point. 

"Journalism and the stage," he said, "have always 
been more or less in sympathy with each other. As 
they have progressed this sympathy may be said to 
have grown into an alliance in the best interests of 
civihzation. As exponents of the highest thought of 
the greatest writers, as educationists of the most com- 
prehensive character, the press and the stage are, I 
think, two of the most powerful institutions for good 
in our times, and represent the greatest possibilities in 
the future. 

" It is interesting to contemplate how closely they 
are associated, these two institutions, artistically and 
commercially . The advertisements of the theatres rep- 
resent a large revenue to the newspapers ; the employ- 
ment of writers and reporters in chronicling and com- 
menting upon the work of the theatres represents, on 
the other hand, an important outlay for the newspapers. 
The press is telling the story of the theatre from day 
to day ; and, while it extends an earnest and honest 
sympathy to dramatic art in its highest aspirations of 
excellence, I hope the time Avill corne when the criticism 
of the work of the stage will be considered one of the 
most serious features that belong to the general and 
varied compositions of a newspaper. 



^'IN cloveb:' 197 

" In the past we, in England, at all events, look upon 
but two men as critics in the most complete sense, — men 
who, by thought and study, feeling and knowledge, 
had the power to sympathize with the intention of the 
artist, to enter into the motives of the actor himself, 
criticising his conceptions according to his interpreta- 
tion of that which he desires to express. These two 
writers were Lamb and Hazlett. But nowadays we 
have thousands of critics. Every newspaper in Great 
Britain has its critic. Even the trade-journals, and 
some of the professedly religious journals, have their 
critics, and some of them speak with an emphasis and 
an authority on the most abstruse principles of art 
^^hich neither Lamb nor Hazlett would have dreamed 
of assuming. I don't know how this contrasts with 
America ; but I am sure that when the conductors of 
the great journals of the two worlds are fully convinced 
of the deep interest and the friendly interest the 
people are taking in the stage they will give increas- 
ing importance to the dramatic departments of their 
papers." 

" You are going to a journalistic breakfast or supper 
one day this week," I said. "Is that your idea of the 
sort of speech you will make to them?" I asked, for 
he expressed his opinions with more than ordinary firm- 
ness, seeing that the topic was comparatively new. 

"Well, I thought of saying something," he replied, 
walking all the time about his room . " Do you think the 
relations of the stage and the press a good subject?" 

" Excellent," I said ; " a text worthy of an essay in 
'The Fortnightly ' or the 'Edinburgh Review.' " 



198 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERIGA. 



IV. 

TAKmG a quiet stroll along Broad street, and occa- 
sionally up and down the thoroughfares right and left, 
on the first Sunday afternoon of our arrival in Phila- 
delphia, we paused once or twice to note the people 
coming out of church and chapel. 

"You know that part of Manchester called Hulme," 
said Irving. " Is not this quarter like that ? Could 
you not fancy we were in almost any suburban part of 
Manchester? And the people, do you see anything in 
their appearance to denote that they are any other than 
English?" 

" No ; they might be a Birmingham, or a Manchester, 
or a Liverpool crowd." 

" Better dressed, perhaps, so far as the women go. 
This absence of strong contrasts between American and 
English is often noticeable. Nothing in that way 
struck me more forcibly than the Lotos-Club dinner at 
New York. They might have been a gathering of 
London clubmen, only that they all made such singu- 
larly humorous speeches. The English after-dinner 
oratory is more solemn. And the audience here last 
night, — I could not see their faces, of course ; but I 
felt their influence, and their response to various points 
was very English. I am told that it is thoroughly 
American to hurry away the moment the curtain falls 
on the last act." 

"It certainly is the general practice of American 
audiences. An English friend of ours, and a popular 
comedian here, was only telling me yesterday how the 



*'IN GLOVEBy 199 

habit afflicts him and his company. * At first,' he said, 
4t was terrible. We thought we had utterly failed, 
and we shall never get used to it.' He asked me how 
it aiFected you. I would not hurt his feelings, of course, 
by telling liim that your audiences, so far, had waited 
every night to applaud, and to call you and Miss Terry, 
and frequently other members of your company. I 
said you seemed to drop into the habits of the country 
easily." 

" It is very generous, is it not ? And I know they are 
making an exception with us, because my attention has 
been called to it so often. 1 drove down Chestnut 
street yesterday. Have you noticed what a picturesque 
effect, both in form and color, the sign-boards give to 
Chestnut street? And there is something very clean 
and homelike about the private houses, — red brick 
mostly, with white marble steps and green blinds. 
The atmosphere of the place is calmer than New York. 
I have been reading a new daily paper here, the * Even- 
ing Call,' — very odd, clever kind of paper." 

"Yes," I said; "it is a type of quite a new de- 
parture in daily journalism. The * Morning Journal,' 
in New York, and the ^ Evening News,' in Chicago, 
are examples in point. Akin to the first idea of the 
'Figaro,' in London, they are a little in the style of 
the ^Cuckoo,' which croaked in the London streets for 
a short time. They may be considered as outside the 
competition of the regular high-class daily journals. 
They occupy ground of their own. Their leading idea 
is to amuse, rather than to instruct. They employ 
humorous versifiers, story-tellers, jesters. They are 



200 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA, 

the cap and bells in print, the jester, or court-fool, in 
newspapers ; and sometimes are as personal as that 
very strange jester in the American play of * Francesca 
da Rimini/ How this new form of daily journalism 
represents American civilization, or w^iat side of it, is 
a point which ^Ir. Arnold or Spencer may be left to 
discuss. I am glad you have noticed it, because I 
have collected a few Philadelphian examples of its 
style, — bright, easy, clever, frivolous, perhaps, and 
sometimes a trifle broad, but full of go." 

We sat down at the hotel to look over my notes, and 
here are a few items from them : — 



Theatre-goer. — "I notice that a favorite device with Irving 
in a moment of deep feeling is for him to clutch and perhaps 
tear open the collar or loose scarf that is aromidhis neck." 

Scarf Manufacturer. — " Well, I declare ! That is the best 
news that I have heard for a long time. Three cheers for 
Irving ! " 

Theatre-goer. — " Why, man, are you demented ? " 

Scarf Manufacturer. — " Not at all. Can't you see ? The 
five hundred thousand amateur actors in this country will all 
be imitating Irving, and the result will be the biggest kind of 
a boom in scarfs." 

In the same column it is announced that "James 
Mallcy wants to go on the stage," and the editor adds, 
" We hope he will wait until eggs are cheaper." "You 
cannot convert 15,000 tons into 20,000 tons," is 
quoted as a remark of the late Lord Beaconsfield to 
accentuate the general grievance about short weight 
in coals. "Dizzy's remark clearly shows that he 
knew nothins: about the coal business." Plumbers in 



''IN CLOVERy 201 

America are subjects of much newspaper sarcasm. 
"Three weeks ago," says the "Lock Haven Express" 
" the writer sent for a plumber, who never appeared, 
but yesterday he sent in his bill." The " Call " prints 
this to add, "He must have been a poor sort of plumber 
to wait three weeks before sending in a bill." Chicago 
looks down upon some of the Eastern cities, and thei'C 
is a rivalry between the journals of Chicago and the 
cities that are scorned, which is often amusing. ^^ The 
only cure for love is marriage," says the "Call" ; "the 
only cure for marriage, divorce. Beware of imitations ; 
none genuine without the word ^ Chicago ' blown on 
the bottle." 

An imaginary description of Irving's visit to the 
Rev. Ward Beecher, with an account of the family 
dinner and conversation, was started by one of these 
new daily papers, and it was repeated even by several 
of the more serious journals in other cities as a genuine 
thing. It is difficult sometimes to know when the news 
of some of these papers is true. Ingenious readers 
will probably ask in what respect they thus differ from 
other papers. But our satirical friends must always get 
in their little joke. It strikes me as a weakness, in the 
programme of some of the new sheets, that you should 
for a moment be left in doubt as to when they are in 
earnest and when in fun ; when they are recording real 
events, or when they are chaffing history. Here is an 
extract from the report of Irving's visit to Beecher : — 

The party rested in the parlor until the dinner was ready. 
The conversation was of an every-day nature, and did not 
enter deeply either into theatricals or religion. 



202 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

The party filed into the dining-room, Mr, Beecher behind, 
turning his cuffs end for end as he walked. In this room was 
a palatable show, — a big, fat goose, entrenched in gravy, 
and flanked by all kinds of vegetables, slept the final sleep in 
the centre of the table. Everything necessary accompanied 
the star of the feast. 

"Dark meat, Miss Terrj^?" asked the reverend gentleman 
as he grasped the carver. 

"If you please, with plenty of stuffing," returned the little 
lady. 

All were helj)ed from the generous goose, and Mr. Beecher 
sat down to enjoy his reward. He is very fond of onion stuff- 
ing, and had taken care that it was not all gone before his 
turn came. 

"This goose," began Mr. Beecher, the bird's biographer, 
" has a history. She is the seventh goose of a seventh " — 

Just what the reverend gentleman was going to attribute to 
the goose will not be known, as just then he tasted the stuff- 
ing. There was no onion in it. A stern look came over his 
face, and he was on the point of saying something when he 
caught the warning glance from his wife's eyes and kept 
quiet. Nothing was heard for ten minutes besides the tuneful 
play of knives, forks, and dishes. The dinner was topped off 
with mince and pumpkin pies, in whose favor the guests could 
not say too much. After dinner a quiet, enjoyable talk was 
indulged in. Mr. Beecher neglected his Sunday school to 
entertain the artists. He highly complimented Irving by tell- 
ing him that he was a born preacher. 

"If I were not pastor of Plymouth Church, I would be 
Henry Irving," said Mr. Beecher. 

" You are a born actor," said Mr. Irving. " As for myself, 
Ihere is no one I feel more inclined to envy than the pastor 
of Plymouth Church." 

Miss Terry was not slighted much in Mr. Beecher's meed 
of praise. The topics of discussion momentarily changed 
from America to England and back again, both of the leading 
gentlemen having well-stored minds that relieved them from 
"talking shop." 



-7^ CLOVERy 203 

At four o'clock the visitors departed, carrying and leaving 
delightful impressions. 

" Newspapers are not allowed to be noisely hawked in 
the streets here, I find," said Irving ; " and ticket specu- 
lators on the sidewalks are also tabooed. A little 
newsboy offered me a paper yesterday quite confi- 
dentially. By the way, you saw the military band 
belonging to "The Evening Call." It is composed of 
the employes of the newsj^aper. It looked like a band 
of French guides. It serenaded Miss Terry at her 
hotel yesterday, and afterwards serenaded me at mine. 
I was just getting up. It quite aflPected me to hear 
" God save the Queen " played as finely almost as if the 
and of Her Majesty's Guards were under my window.^ 

1 Distinguished Visitors. — The "Evening Call" band of fifty-one 
pieces and the "Evening Call " flute and drum corps, numbering thirty- 
five pieces, making a total of eighty-six performers, formed before the 
Union League building this morning, and proceeded down Broad street 
a few yards, to the Hotel Bellevue, and tendered a complimentary 
serenade to the distinguished English actor, Henry Irving. Several 
delightful airs, including " God Save the Queen," were rendered with 
fine efi"ect. Mr. J. H. Coplestone, Mr. Abbey's manager for Mr. Irving, 
acknowledged the compliment on behalf of the eminent tragedian. The 
band then proceeded to the Aldine Hotel, where Miss Ellen Terry, Mr. 
Irving's leading lady, was serenaded, following which the musicians 
gave a short street parade. At the conclusion of the serenade Mr. Ii-ving 
sent the following pleasant little note to the office of the " Evening Call " : — 

"Hotel Bellevue, Philadelphia, 

" 29th November (' Thanksgiving Day '), 1883. 

" To the Editor of the Evening Call : — 

" My dear Sir, — Upon this day of universal thankfulness allow me to 
add a personal item. My thanks to you and your magnificent band for the 
honor done to me this morning by their serenade. I enjoyed the music 
much, and beg to add my tribute of praise to the worth of your band which, 
to my mind, is amongst the best I have heard. To hear the strains of the 



204 IMFEESSIONS OF AMERIOA. 



" Irving in Clover," was the journalistic title of a 
report of "a notable breakfast given to the English 
tragedian," which appeared in the "Philadelphia 
Press." "A gathering of distinguished men listen to 
entertaining words by the famous actor ; he is pre- 
sented with the watch of Edwin Forrest." 

The " Clover Club " is one of the pleasantest of 
Philadelphian institutions. Its reception to Mr. Irv- 
ing, and the Forrest incident, which makes the day- 
historical in the annals of the stage, calls for a 
special record. As I was travelling at this time to 
another city, I propose to repeat the chronicle of the 
local journalist, and Mr. Irving's own personal report 
of the interesting proceedings. Let me say, then, in 
the language of the "Press," that on the morning of 
December 7 Mr. Irving broke his fast with the club 
that has a four-leaved Shamrock on which to spread its 
bounty, a voire santS for its toast cry, and for its 
motto the quatrain, — 

" While we live, 

We live in clover ; 
When we die, 
We die all over." 



national anthem of my own dear land here and on snch a day touched me 
much, and assures me again in a forcible manner of the strength of the af- 
fection between the two countries, Amei'ica and England. 
** Believe me to be, dear sir, yours very faithfully, 

"HENRY IRVING." 
— Evenirig Call. 



"AV CLOVERS 205 

The banqueting-room of tlie Hotel Belle vue, the scene 
of so many memorable gatherings, and the shrine at 
which the quadrifoil devotees ever w^orship, had been 
turned into a fairy bower. The regular clover table 
had an addition in the shape of a crescent, spreading 
on either side from the stem of the club's emblem and 
from its centre, and concealing a pillar supporting the 
floor above, arose what the florist's art made to appear 
a gigantic plant. Its branches, bearing numerous 
camellias, reached to the ceiling. At its base, in a bed 
of emerald moss, grew ferns and lilies. Smilax (a 
beautiful American creeper), in graceful windings, 
covered the entire board, furnishing a radiant green 
setting for dazzling glass and shining silver, and 
handsome plaques of flowers and fruits. Directly 
in front of the president of the club, and the guest of 
the occasion, was a handsome floral structure, from 
which the modest clover grew around the name 
" Henry Irving," composed of radiant blossoms. On 
the emblematic gridiron was placed the massive " lov- 
ing-cup." The walls of the room were covered with 
precious works of art, and over all was shed the mellow 
light of many wax candles, with their ra^^s subdued 
by crimson shades. The sunlight, so suggestive of 
business activity and all that rebukes feasting and 
frivolity, was rigorously excluded from the scene of 
pleasure. An English and American flag entwined 
draped one end of the room. 

Breakfast was served shortly, at noon, fifty- three 
gentlemen sitting around the clover-leaf. Around 
the table, beside Mr. Irving and twenty-three mem- 



206 IMPJIESSIONS OF AMERICA, 

bers of the club, were seated the following gentle- 
men : Ex- Attorney-General iNIacYeagh, Charles 
Wyndham, the English comedian ; A. Loudon Snow- 
den, Superintendent of the Mint ; Charles Godfrey Le- 
land (Hans Breitman) ; Calvin Wells, of Pittsburg; 
Captain «T. W. Shackford, of the yacht Atlanta; 
Professor E. Coppee Mitchell, of the University; 
James D. Fish, president of the Marine National 
Bank, New York, and owner of the New York 
Casino ; John B. Schoeffel, partner of Henry E. 
Abbey; Morton McMichael, Jr., cashier of the 
First National Bank ; A. G. Hetherington, J. H. 
Copleston, James H. Alexander ; Commodore James 
M. Ferguson, President of the Board of Port Wardens ; 
E. A. Perry, of "The Boston Herald"; E. T. Steel, 
President of the Board of Education ; Thomas Hoven- 
den, J. W. Bailey, Marcus Mayer, Peter A. B. Wid- 
ener. Dr. Alfred C= Lambdin ; Henry Howe, the "first 
old man " of Mr. Irving's company ; W. E. Littleton, 
J. M. White ; Hon. Robert P. Porter, of New York; 
Nathaniel Childs, the comedian ; Charles A. Dougherty, 
J. Beaufoy Lane, and J. H. Falser. 

After the "Baby''^ member. Colonel John A. Mc- 
Caull, had descended from the high-chair and been di- 
vested of his rattle, and the loving-cup had been 
passed around, and the game on the bill of fare had 
been reached. President M. P. Handy arose, and in a 
few fitting remarks introduced ]Mr. Irving, reminding 
him, in conclusion, that "this unconventionality is our 

1 The youngest member, who is provided with a tall chair, a rattle, and 
other thiuo^s indicative of his "clover" childhood. 



''IN clover:' 207 

conventionality," and, further, that he was expected "to 
stir up the animals." 

After the warm applause that greeted him had sub- 
sided, Mr. Irving, in a conversational, unrestrained 
manner, spoke as follows : — 

"Gentlemen, I can never forget, so long as I live, 
the hearty welcome you have given me, coupled with 
such unusual and hearty hospitality. When it was first 
known that I was coming to Philadelphia, your club 
extended to me a most kind invitation, — the first invi- 
tation I received after my arrival in America, and one 
that will ever be memorable to me. Your great hospi- 
tality, and the gridiron there before me, has reminded 
me of an old organization of which I am a member, — 
the Beefsteak Club. I hope I shall have the pleasure 
of welcoming some of the members of this club when- 
ever they cross the water. Should any of them come 
to London I will endeavor to make some return for 
this unexpected welcome. I hope by that time we 
will have some of your unconventional conventionalities 
of which you have, in such an excellent manner, given 
me a specimen. I am told that speech-making is not 
part of the programme. Therefore I can do no better 
than follow the suggestion of my friend Dougherty, 
and give you an experience of my early life. I don't 
wish to do aught against the rules, — for I am a great 
stickler for rules, — which I see you carry out ; but I 
will tell you a little story concerning my early life, or 
it may possibly be the story of the early life of several 
of us." 



208 IMFBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

And then Mr. Irving branched off into a recitation 
descriptive of how " some vast amount of years ago '' 
a precocious youth — one Tom by name, and but eleven 
years of age — had a prematurely amorous longing for 
a spinster of thirty-two, who finally married an elder, 
but hated, rival. At the conclusion of the recitation, 
which was received with great laughter, he continued 
his remarks , as follows : — 

" I feel most fondly unto you, O Clovers ! Many of 
you, I believe, are associated with the press. Between 
journalism and the stage there has always been a great 
sympathy, and I fancy it will continue so until all 
things cease to exist. I have often thought that the 
stage is a sort of father of journalism, — it is a sort of 
Utopian idea, — but from the days of the Greek drama 
to the time of Shakespeare there was much news dis- 
cussed at the theatres, such as we now find in the news- 
papers. Our interests are mixed. We represent much 
of the newspaper treasury I know, in England, and I 
fancy it is the same in this country. We are there- 
fore interested, to a very large amount, in the news- 
papers, and I have found my friend, Charles Wyndham , 
whom I am glad to meet at this board, interested to 
the extent of anxiety concerning some of his large 
advertisements. 

" But this is not solely a gathering of journalists. I 
have to- day the honor of meeting many gentlemen who 
represent every class in Philadelphia, — every class of 
professional calling. I will say from my very heart that 
I thank vou. I will remember, as long as I live, the 



"/^ clover:' 209 

courtesy that has supplemented this sumptuous banquet, 
and your kindness in calling me to meet such represent- 
ative men. I am living next door to this room, and 
had I only heard that I was to meet such a distinguished 
gathering I am afraid I would have been deterred 
from facing you. Mr. Plandy, your president, has told 
me that your conventionality consists in being uncon- 
ventional, and I have tried to be as unconventional as 
I possibly can. I thank you with all my heart." 

At the conclusion of Irving's remarks Secretary 
Deacon read the following letter from the eminent 
American tragedian, James E. Murdoch: — 

Previous engagements of a domestic kind induce me to 
send " Regrets," in reply to your invitation to breakfast with 
the members of the Clover Club and their distinguished guest, 
Mr. Henry Irving. In regard to certain "effects, defective" 
consequent upon the " feast of reason and the flow of soul," 1 
am constrained to say, in the language of Cassio [somewhat 
altered], "I have but a poor and unhappy stomach for feast- 
ing." I am unfortunate in the infirmity, and dare not task my 
weakness with tlie tempting dishes of mind and matter so 
bountifully served up at complimentary festivals. I hope it 
will not be considered out of place for me to state that I have 
had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Irving socially, and of wit- 
nessing some of his performances. I esteem him as a man of 
gentle manners, and regard him as a dramatic genius. He 
appears to me to possess, in an eminent degree, all those quali- 
ties of thought and action which marked so strikingly the 
historical career of JMacready and Charles Kean, and which 
established the reputation of those gentlemen for consummate 
skill in stage direction, and for exquisite portraiture of dramatic 
characters. Desiring to be excused for the obtrusion of my 
opinion, allow me to add: although I shall not have the 



210 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA 

pleasure of sitting down to your banquet, I take pleasure in 
saying : — 

" Now, good digestion wait on appetite and healtli on both " — 
..." Come, love and health, to all "... 

I drink to the general joy of the whole table, and especially 
to the health and happiness of your accomplished and worthy 
guest. 

Yours, always, in the bonds of good-fellowship, 

JAJMES E. MURDOCH, 

The next episode of the memorable occasion was one 
that almost moved Mr. Irving to tears. It was as 
great a surprise to many members of the club as it was 
to the guest of the day. Thomas Donaldson, a well- 
known Clover, after some remarks concerning the 
drama, in which he spoke of the United States having 
1,800 theatres, 20,000 actors and actresses, and 
spending $40,000,000 for theatrical entertainment, 
said : " Mr. Irving, I desire to present you with the 
watch of the greatest genius America ever produced 
on the mimic stage, — Edwin Forrest." Mr. Irving 
clasped the relic extended to him and reverently kissed 
it. He remained on his feet, having impulsively arisen, 
and in a voice deep with feeling spoke again : — 

"You have bereft me of all words. My blood alone 
can speak for me in my face, and if my heart could tell 
it would describe to you my gratitude. This recalls so 
many memories that you will pardon me if I am not 
able to express my deep gratitude for this mark of 
affection. I say affection, for to receive here such a 
memento of your great country is more than I could 



*^IN CLOVEBy 211 

have dreamt of. To think that to-day, before so many 
distinguished Americans, a watch coukl be given to 
me that belonged to Edwin Forrest ! It recalls a most 
unfortunate affair ; I refer to the contretemps between 
Forrest and my countryman, Macready. That such a 
tribute should have been offered me shows how changed 
is your feeling towards art ; shows how cosmopolitan 
art is in all its phases. I shall wear this watch, Mr. 
Donaldson, close to my heart. It will remind me of 
you all, and of your city and of your country, — not 
that I need anything to remind me, — but close to my 
heart it will remind me of your kind friendship. With 
all my heart I thank you." 

As Mr. Irving sat down he kissed the watch again, 
and then placed it in the upper left-hand pocket of his 
vest. Accompanying the timepiece which had been Mr. 
Donaldson's private possession, were papers proving 
the authenticity of its original ownership.^ 

1 The documentary evidence handed to Irving as establishing the iden- 
tity of the Avatch are, (1.) a copy of the catalogue of the sale by auction of 
" the estate of Edwin Forrest, deceased," at Davis & Harvey's Art Galleries, 
No. 1212 Chestnut street, Philadelphia, on Feb. 4, 1883. (2.) A copy of 
the Supplementary catalogue of '' the personal effects of Edwin Forrest," 
which sets forth twenty-eight articles, including a silver watch. (3.) The 
auctioneer's receipt for " One silver watch, the property of Edwin Forrest," 
and (4.) a voucher from Mr. Donaldson, in which he states that, until he 
presented it to Mr. Irving, the watch had never been out of his possession 
from the time that he bought it. Mr. Donaldson is a collector of bric-a- 
brac, and possesses many interesting i-elics of the stage. On living's second 
visit to Philadelphia we called upon him and inspected some of his miscel- 
laneous treasures. They covered a wide range of interest, — antiquarian, 
geological, historical, artistic, and litei-ary. A white-haired, picturesque- 
looking old gentleman was there to meet us. "How like Tennyson! " 
exclaimed Ii-ving. The interesting visitor was Walt Whitman. He ex- 



212 IMFBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Ex-Attorney-General MacYeagh was the next 
speaker, and he paid a very graceful tribute to foreign 
theatrical and operatic artists, and the welcome they 
receive in these days on the shores of America. 

Mr. Henry Howe (a leading member of Mr. Irving's 
company), who, for forty consecutive years, was a 
member of the Haymarket Theatre Company, made a 
warm defence of Macready anent the Forrest trouble. 
" I have heard him say," said Mr. Howe, "time and 
time again, ^ Never in my life did I do anything that 
would prevent me from shaking Forrest by the hand. 
I appreciate his genius, and that I could ever have been 
thought merai enough to do anything against him is the 
greatest misfortune of my life.' And henceforth, gen- 
tlemen, I believe you will all be ready to defend this 
man who has been unjustly assailed." 

After many other speeches, songs, and recitations 
Mr. Irving rose to leave. He said : — 

" The welcome you have given me has surpassed my 
most ideal dream. I cannot describe mv feelincrs. 
Such generosity, such welcome, such friendship, as I have 
met with here, no act of mine can repay. I hope to 
to be back here in the early part of the coming year, 
and I ask if you will not all at that time be my guests. 
If you will come you will only add to the greatness of 
my obligation." 

pressed great satisfaction on being told that he was well known in England, 
and, in an amused way, he stood up, that Irving might judge if he was as 
tall as Tennyson. It is a milder face, and less rugged in its lines, than the 
face of the great English poet ; but, in other respects, suggests the author 
of *' In Memoriam." 



''IN clover:' 213 

As Mr. Irving left the room he passed around the 
table and shook hands warmly with each gentleman 
present. The breakfast party did not arise until five 
o'clock. Among those, other than the gentlemen men- 
tioned, who contributed to the pleasure of the occasion, 
by speech, song, or recitation, were Dr. Edward 
Bedloe, Rufus E. Shapley, John B. SchoefFel, A. 
Loudon Snowden, Hon. Robert P. Porter, A. G. 
Hetherington, British Consul Clipperton, and Nat. 
Childs. At the latter part of the festivities Attorney- 
General Brewster entered the room and expressed his 
regrets that he had been unable to be present in time 
to shake hands with the Clover guest, and add his own 
to the club's welcome of Enojland's leading; actor. 



214 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



BOSTON AND SHYLOCK. 

Rural Scenes on Both Sides of the Atlantic — First Impressions of Railway- 
Travel — The Cars — One of the Largest Theatres in America — The 
Drama in Boston — Early Struggles to represent Plays in Public — 
"Moral Lectures" — Boston Criticisms — Shylock, Portia, Hamlet, 
and Ophelia — DifFei*ent Readings of Shylock — Dressing-Room 
Criticism — Shylock considered — A Reminiscence of Tunis — How 
Shakespeare should be interpreted on the Stage — Two Methods 
illustrated — Shylock before the Court of Venice — How Actors should 
be judged. 

I. 

Nothing in America is so unlike England as the 
desolate appearance of the meadows in the fall and 
early winter months. From New York to Boston, a 
journey of six hours, in the second week of December, 
not a blade of green grass was to be seen. The train 
ran through a wilderness of brown, burnt-up meadows. 
With a tinge of yellow in the color of them, they 
would have resembled the late corn-stubbles of an 
English landscape. But all were a dead, sombre 
brown, except once in a way, where a clump of oaks 
still waved their russet leaves. Another noticeable 
contrast to England is the wooden houses, that look so 
temporary as compared with the brick and stone of the 
old country. The absence of the trim gardens of 
English rural districts also strikes a stranger, as do 
the curious and ragged fences that take the place of the 
English hedge-rows. The New England homesteads 



BOSTON AND SEYLOCK. 215 

are, however, more like those of old England than are 
the farms of other States in the Union. 

The habit of letting out walls and buildings, roofs 
of barns, and sides of houses, for the black and white 
advertisements of quack-medicine venders and others, 
is a disfigurement of the land which every English 
visitor notices with regret ; and lovers of the picturesque, 
Americans and English, grow positively angry over 
the disfigurement of the Hudson by these money-making 
Goths and vandals. 

A change of scene was promised for the Irving 
travellers on their return to New York, over the same 
line. A cold wave from the West was predicted. 
" We shall have snow before long," said an American 
friend, " and not unlikely a hard winter. I judge so 
from the fact that all the great weather prophets say it 
will be a mild one. Your Canadian seer, for instance, 
is dead on an exceptionally calm and warm winter. 
So let us look out." 

Boston delighted the members of Irving's company ; 
all of them, except Loveday, who contracted, on the 
way thither, an attack of malarial fever. With true 
British pluck he fought his assailant until his first 
spell of important work was over, and then he retreated. 
Medical assistance, rest, and plenty of quinine, pulled 
him through. But the company were destined later 
to sustain other climatic shocks ; and they all, more 
or less, had a dread of the threatened winter. Until 
Loveday broke down everybody had stood the change 
of climate well. Reports came from England that 
Miss Ellen Terry was ill in New York. On the 



216 IMPRESSIONS OF AMEBIC A. 

contrary, she had never been better than during these 
first weeks of the tour. She suffered, as all English 
women do, from heated rooms. "That is my only 
fear," she said to me. " The climate ! — I don't object to 
it. If they would only be content with it, I would. 
Some of the days are gorgeous. The snap of cold, as 
they call it, was delightful to me. But when I would 
be driving out in open carriages New York ladies 
would be muffled up in close broughams. And, oh, the 
getting home again ! — to the hotel, I mean. An Eng- 
lish hot-house, where they grow pine-apples, — that 
is the only comparison I can think of. And their 
private houses ! How the dear people can stand the 
overwhelming heat of them, I don't know ! " 

The railway journey from Philadelphia to Boston 
was Irving's first experience of American travel. 

" It is splendid," he said, when I met him at his 
hotel, on the night of his arrival. "Am I not tired? 
Not a bit. It has been a delightful rest. I slept 
nearly the whole way, except once when going to the 
platform and looking out. At a station a man asked 
me which was Irving, and I pointed to jNIead, who 
had been walking along the track, and was just 
then getting into his car. No ; I enjoyed the ride all 
the w^ay ; never slept better ; feel quite refreshed." 

Said Miss Terry, the next morning, when I saw her 
at the Tremont House, " Oh, yes, Hike the travelling ! 
It did not tire me. Then we had such lovely cars ! 
But how different the stations are compared with ours ! 
No platforms ! — you get down really upon the line. 
And how unfinished it all looks, — except the cars, and 



BOSTON AND SIIYLOCK. 217 

they are perfect. Oh, yes ! the parlor-car beats our 
first-class carriage. I shall like Boston very much, — 
though I never expect to like any place as well as New 
York." 

II. 

The Boston Theatre is the largest of the houses in 
which Irving has played on this side of the Atlantic. 
It is claimed that it is the largest in the Union, though 
many persons say that the Opera House at the Rocky 
Mountain city of Denver is the handsomest of all the 
American theatres. The main entrance to the Boston 
house is on Washington street. It has not an imposing 
exterior. The front entrance is all that is visible, the 
rest being filled up with stores ; but the hall is very 
spacious, and the vestibule, foyer, lobbies, and grand 
staircase beyond, are worthy of the broad and well- 
appointed auditorium. The promenade saloon is paved 
with marble, and is forty-six feet by twenty-six feet, 
and proportionately high. Upon the walls, and here 
and there on easels, are portraits of Irving, Booth, 
McCullough, Salvini, and other notable persons. The 
promenade and entrance hall cover one hundred feet 
from the doors to the auditorium, which, in its turn, is 
ninety feet from the back row to the foot-lights. The 
stage is one hundred feet wide and ninety feet deep ; 
and the interior of the house from front to back covers 
three hundred feet, the average width being about one 
hundred feet. In addition to the parquette, which 
occupies the entire floor (as the stalls do at the English 
Opera Comique, and, by a recent change, also at the 



218 IMPBESSIONS OF AMEBIC A. 

Hajmarket), there arc three balconies, severally known 
as the dress circle, the family circle, and the gallery. 
The house will seat three thousand people. It is built 
on a series of arches, or supporting columns, leaving 
the basement quite open, giving, so far as the stage is 
concerned, great facilities for the manipulation of 
scenery and for storage, and allowing space for offices, 
drill-rooms for supers, and other purposes. 

"It is a magnificent theatre," said Irving; "the 
auditorium superb, the stage fine ; the pitch of the audi- 
torium in harmony with the stage, by which I mean 
there is an artistic view of the stage from every seat ; 
the gas managements are perfect, and the system of 
general ventilation unique ; but the dressing-rooms are 
small and inconvenient. For anything like quiet act- 
ing, for work in which detail of facial expression, sig- 
nificant gesture, or delicate asides, are important, the 
theatre is too large." 

" Are you acquainted with the history of the stage 
in Boston?" I asked him, "or of this theatre in par- 
ticular ? " 

" Only from what I have read or heard in a cursory 
way," he said; "but one can readily understand that 
our Puritan ancestors would bring with them to these 
shores their hatred of plays and players. The actors 
persevered in their terrible occupation in New England, 
notwithstanding a local ordinance to prevent stage 
plays and other theatrical entertainments, passed in 
1750. Otway's ^Orphan' was, I am told, the first 
piece done in Boston. It was played at the British 
Coffee-house, 'by a company of gentlemen,' and this 



BOSTON AND SEYLOCK. 219 

gave rise to the passing of the act in question. Some 
five or ten years later a number of Tories got up an 
association to promote acting and defy this statute. 
They revolted in favor of art ; and in these days of 
political tolerance that is a good thing to remember. 
The members of this society were chiefly British offi- 
cers, who, with their subalterns and private soldiers, 
formed the acting company. I believe one of them 
wrote the first piece they attempted to give in public. 
It was called * The Blockade of Boston' ; but the enter- 
tainment was stopped by a ruse, — a sudden report 
that fighting had begun at Charlestown ; a call to 
arms, in fact. For many years no more efforts were 
made to amuse or instruct the people with semi-the- 
atrical entertainments or stage plays. The next 
attempt was a theatre, or, more properly speaking, a 
variety show, in disguise. The house was called ^ The 
New Exhibition Room,' and the entertainment was an- 
nounced as ^ a moral lecture.' One Joseph Harper was 
the manager. The programme of the first night in- 
cluded tight-rope dancing, and various other athletic 
feats ; ' an introductory address ' ; singing, by a Mr. 
Woods ; tumbling, by Mr. Placide ; and, in the course 
of the evening, ^ will be delivered the Gallery of Por- 
traits ; or, the World as it Goes, by JNIr. Harper. 
Later, ^Venice Preserved' was announced as a moral 
lecture, 'in which the dreadful effects of conspiracy 
will be exemplified.' Mr. Clapp's book on Boston 
contains several curious instances of this kind. Shake- 
speare, it seems, filled the stage as 'a moral lecturer'; 
and a familiar old English drama was played as 'a 



220 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

moral lecture, in five parts, wherein the pernicious ten- 
dency of libertinism will be exemplified in the tragical 
history of George Barnwell ; or, the London Mer- 
chant.' Eventually, in the year 1793, I think, or 
thereabouts. Harper was arrested on the stage while 
playing Richard in one of Shakespeare's moral illus- 
trations of the bane of ambition and the triumph of 
virtue over vice. The audience protested, and destroyed 
a portrait of the governor of the city, which hung over 
the stage-box. They also tore down the State arms, 
and trampled upon them. At the hearing of the 
charge against Harper a technical flaw in the indict- 
ment procured his discharge. After this, however, 
the ^ Exhibition Room ' did not flourish ; but a bold 
and earnest movement, a year or two later, resulted in 
the building of the Federal Street Theatre, sometimes 
also called the Boston, and sometimes Old Drury, 
after the London house. From this time the stage in 
Boston is a fact ; and one feels at home in reading over 
the names of the actors who have been well known here, 
— INIacready, Charles Kemble and Fanny Kemble, 
Charlotte Cushman, Ellen Tree, John Vandenhofl", 
Sheridan Knowles, John Gilbert, Fanny Ellsler, the 
Booths, our friend Warren, and others. The present 
theatre, the Boston,^ in which we are acting, has been 

1 The Boston was built in 1854 by a stock company. It was opened on 
the 11th Septembci" in that year, under the management of the late 
Thomas Barry, and for so?iie time was in the hands of Junius Brutus Booth. 
After a time the company gave up the theatre, and it was acquired by 
Messrs. Thayer and Tompkins. On the death of Mr, Thayer, Mr. Tomp- 
kins associated with himself Mr. Hill, wiio had been a prominent stock- 
holder, and they have since continued as proprietors. Mr. Eugene Tomp- 
kins, son of the chief proprietor, is the general manager. — King's Boston. 



BOSTON AND SEYLOCK. 221 

built about thirty years. The grand ball given to the 
Prince of Wales when he visited this country took 
place here, the auditorium being boarded for the occa- 
sion." 

in. 

"The audience" on the first night of Irving's ap- 
pearance in Boston, said the " Post," on the following 
morning, " was not made up of average theatre-goers ; 
manv res^ular ' first-nio^hters ' were there, but a verv 
large majority of those present were people of wealth, 
who go to the theatre comparatively little." ^ The 
play was "Louis XL" It excited expressions of 
admiration in the audience, and was as warmly 
praised in the press as at New York and Philadelphia. 
A fine theatre, the scenery appeared almost to greater 
advantage than in the Lyceum itself; and some of tlie 
readers of these pages will be surprised to learn that 

1 Mr. Oliver Ditson, General Blackmar and party, Mr. Joseph Thoi-pe, 
and Mrs. Ole Bull. In the hody of the house were seen General Devens, 
Colonel Henry Lee, Mr. J. R. Osgood, Colonel Fairchild, Mr. T. B. 
Aldrich, Mr. Boyle O'Reilly, Mr. Robert Treat Paine, Professor Pierce, of 
Cambridge, Mr. S. H. Russell, Mr. Charles F. Sherwin, Mr. Thomas G. 
Appleton, Mr. Hamilton Wild, Mr. B. C. Porter, ex-Mayor Green, Colonel 
W. V. Hutchins, General Whittier, Mr. A. V. S. Anthony, Mr. Arthur 
Dexter, Mr. George H. Chickerng, Mr. Curtis Guild, Colonel H. G. 
Parker, Hon. R. M. Morse, Jr., Mr. H. M. Ticknor, Colonel W. W. Clapp, 
Mr. Martin Brimmer, Signer Ventura, Mr. T. R. Sullivan, Mr. Higginson, 
Mr. Hemenway, Mr. Matt. Ivuce, Hon. W. D. Davis, of Plymouth, Mr. 
George Riddle, Mr. Henry M. Rogers, Mr. Edes, Mr. Ellerton Pratt, Mr. 
Arthur Dodd, Mr. Alanson Bigelow, and many others of eminent social, 
literary, and artistic position. William Warren, with many professionals, 
was present, while, of course, Mr. Henry E. Abbey and his staff, as well 
as city managers and theatre folk, were represented. Most of the gentle- 
men who attended were accompanied by ladies, and the house, as seen 
from the stage, presented a very brilliant appearance. — The Globe. 



^22 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

much of the original scenery Was dispensed with. 
Portions of the sets, indeed, for all the pieces during 
the week, were painted on the spot bj Mr. Hall (a 
clever young artist, who is devoted to the service of 
Mr. Irving), and Lyceum draperies, groupings, dresses, 
and stage manipulation, did the rest. The usual or- 
chestra of the theatre was strengthened, as at New 
York and Philadelphia, and the conductor had the 
satisfaction of a call for the repetition of some of the 
entr'acte music. 

Among the most remarkable tributes to Irving's 
genius as an actor are the critical notices that appeared 
in the Boston newspapers the next day ; and the people 
of Boston gave practical evidence of their satisfaction 
by attending the theatre in increasing numbers every 
nio:ht. The fortnis^ht's work included, besides the 
opening play, "The Merchant of Venice," "The Lyons 
Mail," " Charles I.," " The Bells," " The Belle's Strata- 
gem," and " Hamlet." The old controversies as to the 
characters of Hamlet and Shylock, and the interpreta- 
tion of them, cropped up in the press, and, as before, 
were entirely absent from the audiences. They evi- 
dently had no doubts ; they showed no desire to dis- 
count their pleasure ; they found themselves wrapped up 
in the stage stories, rejoicing, sorrowing, weeping, 
laughing, with the varying moods of poet and actor. 
They did not stop to analyze the reasons for their mo- 
tion ; it was enough for them that they followed the 
fortunes of the hero and heroine with absorbing interest. 
They had no preconceived ideas to vindicate ; they were 
happy in the enjoyment of the highest form of dramatic 



BOSTON AND SHYLOCK. 223 

entertainment which even those critics, that are chary 
of their commendation of individual artists, say Amer- 
ica has ever seen. Said " The Boston Herald," in its 
notice of " Hamlet " : — 

At the end of each act he received one or more calls 
before the curtain, and after the "play scene" the demonstra- 
tions were really enthusiastic ; shouts of "Bravo!" mingling 
with the plaudits that summoned him to the foot- lights again 
and again. Miss Ellen Terry won all hearts by her exquisite 
embodiment of Ophelia. A better representative of this lovely 
character has not been, and is not likely to be, seen here by 
the present generation of play-goers. She received her full 
share of the honors of the evening, and her appearance before 
the curtain was often demanded, and hailed with delight, by 
the large audience present. 

The "Advertiser," "Traveller," "Globe," "Post,' 
— indeed all the Boston daily press, — were unanimous 
in recognizing the merits of Irving and his work. The 
" Transcript " was especially eulogistic in its treatment 
of Hamlet. As a rule the criticisms were written with 
excellent literary point. It will be interesting to 
give two brief examples of this ; one from the " Travel- 
ler":— 

Of Mr. Irving's performance of ihe part we can truthfully 
say that, while differing almost entirely from that of nearly 
every actor that we have seen in Hamlet, it abounded in 
beauties, in new conceptions of business, in new ideas of 
situation. It was scholarly and thoughtful, princely and 
dignified, tender yet passionate, revengeful jQt human, filial 
yet manly. The Ophelia of Miss Ellen Terry was supremely 
delicious. In the early parts it was artless and girlish, yet 
womanly withal. It was sweet, tender, graceful, loving, and 



224 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

lovable. As a piece of acting, it was ^' stuff VI with all honor- 
able virtues." It was very powerful in the mad scene in the 
fourth act, and yet it was not more powerful than it was refined 
and intellectual ; and while it may be looked upon in every 
respect as a perfect piece of dramatic art, it was yet faithful 
to life and true to the best instincts of womanly nature. 

And another from the " Transcript " : — 

Last evening we found ourselves uncontrollably forced to 
admiration and enthusiasm. He manages by some magic to 
get the full meaning of almost every sentence, and the empha- 
sis always falls upon the right word ; withal, he has this great 
and rare merit, that whatever he says does not sound like a 
speech committed to memory beforehand. He always seems 
to be talking, and not declaiming. He made Hamlet more of 
a convincing reality to us than any actor we can remember. 
The gi'eatness, the intellectual and the ethical force, above all, 
the charm and lovableness of the man, were shown as we 
have never seen them before. Miss Terry's Ophelia is a reve- 
lation of poetic beauty. Here one has nothing to criticise, no 
one trait to praise more than another. Such a wonderful em- 
bodiment of the poet's concex3tion is quickly praised, but never 
to be forgotten. 



III. 

On the first night of the " Merchant of Venice " at 
Boston, Irving played Shy lock, I think, with more 
than ordinary thoughtfuhiess in regard to his original 
treatment of the part. His New York method w^as, to 
me, a little more vioforous than his London renderinor of 
the part. Considerations of the emphasis which actors 
have laid upon certain scenes that are considered as 
especially favorable to the declamatory methods possi- 



BOSTON AND SHYLOCK. 225 

bly influenced him. His very marked success in Louis 
no doubt led some of his admirers in America to ex- 
pect in his Shylock a very hard, grim, and cruel 
Jew. Many persons hinted as much to him before 
they saw his impersonation of this much-discussed 
character. At Boston I thought he was, if possible, 
over-conscientious in traversing the lines he laid down 
for himself when he first decided to produce the " Mer- 
chant" at the Lyceum. Singularly sensitive about the 
feelings of his audiences, and accustomed to judge them 
as keenly as they judge him, he fancied the Boston 
audience, which had been very enthusiastic in their 
applause on the previous nights, were not stirred as 
they had been by his other work in response to his 
efforts as Shylock. The play, nevertheless, was re- 
ceived with the utmost cordiality, and the general 
representation of it was admirable. I found a Londoner 
in front, who was in raptures with it. "I think the 
carnival, Belmont, and court scenes," he said, "were 
never better done at the Lyceum." 

At the close of the piece, and after a double call 
for Irving and Miss Terry, I went to liis dressing- 
room. 

"Yes," he said, "the play has gone well, very well, 
indeed ; but the audience were not altogether with me. 
I always feel, in regard to this play, that they do not 
quite understand what I am doing. They only re- 
sponded at all to-night where Shylock's rage and mor- 
tification get the better of his dignity." 

" They are accustomed to have the part of Shylock 
strongly declaimed ; indeed, all the English Shy locks, 



226 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

as well as American representatives of the part, are 
very demonstrative in it. Phelps was, so was Charles 
Kean ; and I tliink American audiences look for the 
declamatory passages in Shylock, to compare your 
rendering of them with the readings they have pre- 
viously heard. You omit much of what is considered 
great business in Shylock, and American audiences 
are probably a little disappointed that your view of 
the part forbids anything like what may be called 
the strident characteristics of most other Shylocks. 
Charles Kean ranted considerably in Shylock, and 
Phelps was decidedly noisy, — both fine, no doubt, in 
their way. Nevertheless they made the Jew a cruel 
butcher of a Jew. They filled the stage with his sor- 
did greed and malignant desii'e for vengeance on the 
Christian, from his first entrance to his final exit." 

"I never saw Kean's Shylock, nor Phelps's, nor, in- 
deed, any one's. But I am sure Shylock was not a 
low person ; a miser and usurer, certainly, but a very 
injured man, — at least he thought so. I felt that my 
audience to-night had quite a different opinion, and I 
once wished the house had been composed entirely of 
Jews. I would like to play Shylock to a Jewish 
audience." 

Mr. Warren,^ the famous Boston comedian, came 



1 As the position which Mr. John Gilbert holds in New York is akin to 
that which the elder Fan-en held in London, so the position which Mr. 
William Warren occupies in Boston is akin to that which Mr. Buckstone 
('* Bucky," as his particular friends called him) held in the English 
metropolis. Mr. Warren's DogbeiTj and Paul Pry are among the pleas- 
antest reminiscences of Boston play-goers. It fell to Irving's lot to meet 
Mr. Warren frequently, and perhaps no actor ever received greater com- 



BOSTON AND SHYLOCK. 227 

into the dressing-room while we were talking. He 
has been a favorite here for thirty-six years. 

"Not so long in one place as Mr. Howe," he says, 
with a smile, "who tells me he was a member of the 
Haymarket Company for forty years." 

"You know Mr. Toole well?" said Mr. Irving. 

"Yes," he replied; "it was a pleasure to meet him 
here." 

" He often talks of you." 

" I am glad to know it," he replied ; " I want to tell 
you how delighted I have been to-night. It is the 
"Merchant of Venice," for the first time. I have 
never seen the casket scene played before, nor the 
last act for twenty years. A great audience, and how 
thoroughly they enjoyed the piece I need not tell you." 

"I don't think they cared for me," said Irving. 

" Yes, yes, I am sure they did," Mr. Warren replied, 
at which moment an usher brought Miss Terry, to be 
introduced to him, and the subject dropped, to be re- 
vived over a quiet cigar after supper. 

" I look on Shylock," says Irving, in response to an 
invitation to talk about his work in that direction, "as 
the type of a persecuted race ; almost the only gentle- 
man in the play, and most ill-used. He is a merchant, 
who trades in the Rialto, and Bassanio and Antonio are 



pliments from two veterans of his craft than Ii-ving received from Gilbert 
and Warren. While the favorite of New York never missed an Irving 
performance at the Star Theatre, his famous contemporaiy of Boston not 
only attended all the Lyceum perfoi-mances at Boston, but later, when 
Irvin;^ went to Chicago, Mr. "Warren paid his relatives a visit in the west- 
ern city, and was as constant an attendant at Haverly's dm'ing the Irving 
engagement as he was at the Boston Theatre, 



228 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

not ashamed to borrow money of him, nor to cany off 
liis daughter. The position of his child is, more or 
less, a key to his own. She is the friend of Portia. 
Shylock was well-to-do — a Bible-read man, as his 
readiness at quotation shows ; and there is nothing in 
his language, at any time, that indicates the snuffling 
usurer which some persons regard him, and certainly 
nothing to justify the use the early actors made of the 
part for the low comedian. He was a religious Jew : 
learned, for he conducted his case with masterly 
skilfulness, and his speech is always lofty, and full 
of dignity. Is there a finer language in Shakespeare 
than Shylock's defence of his race? ^Hath not a Jew 
eyes; hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, 
senses, affections, passions ; fed with the same food ; 
hurt with the same weapons ; subject to the same dis- 
eases ; healed by the same means ; warmed and cooled 
by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is ? ' 
As to the manner of representing Shylock, take the 
first part of the story ; note his moods. He is, to begin 
with, quiet, dignified, diplomatic; then satirical; and 
next, somewhat light and airy in his manner, with a 
touch of hypocrisy in it. Shakespeare does not indi- 
cate at what precise moment Shylock conceives the idea 
of the bond ; but he himself tells us of his anxiety to 
have Antonio on the hip. 

" ' I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, 
Even there Avhere merchants most do congregate, 
On me, ray bargains, and my well-won thrift, 
Which he calls interest.' 



BOSTON AND SHYLOCK. 229 

" His first word is more or less fawning ; but it breaks 
out into reproach and satire when he recalls the insults 
that have been heaped upon him. 'Hath a dog 
money?' and so on; still he is diplomatic, for he 
wants to make reprisals upon Antonio : ' Cursed be 
my tribe if I forgive him I ' He is plausible, even 
jocular. He speaks of his bond of blood as a 
merry sport. Do you think if he were strident or 
spiteful in his manner here, loud of voice, bitter, 
they would consent to sign a bond having in it such 
fatal possibilities? One of the interesting things for 
an actor to do is to try to show when Shylock is in- 
spired with the idea of this bargain, and to work out 
by impersonation the Jew's thought in his actions. My 
view is, that from the moment Antonio turns upon him, 
declaring he is Mike to spit upon him again,' and in- 
vites him scornfully to lend the money, not as to his 
friend, but rather to his enemy, who, if he break, 
he may with better force exact the penalty, — from 
that moment I imagine Shylock resolving to propose 
his pound of flesh, perhaps without any hope of getting 
it. Then he puts on that hypocritical show of pleas- 
antry which so far deceives them as to elicit from 
Antonio the remark that ' the Hebrew will turn 
Christian; he grows kind.' Well, the bond is to be 
sealed, and when next we meet the Jew he is still 
brooding over his wrongs, and there is in his words 
a constant, though vague, suggestion of a desire 
for revenge, nothing definite or planned, but a con- 
tinual sense of undeserved humiliation and persecu- 
tion : — 



230 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

" ' I am bid forth to supper, Jessica. 
Tliere are my keys. But why should I go? 
I am not bid for love. They flatter me ; 
But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon 
The prodigal Christian.' 

" But one would have to write a book to go into 
these details, and tell an actor's story of Shy- 
lock." 

" We are not writing a book of Shylock now, but 
only chatting about your purpose and intention gen- 
erally in presenting to the public what is literally to 
them a new Shylock, and answering, perhaps, a few 
points of that conservative kind of criticism which 
preaches tradition and custom. Come to the next 
phase of Shylock's character, or, let us say, his next 
dramatic mood." 

"Well", we get at it in the street scene: rage, — a 
confused passion ; a passion of rage and disappoint- 
ment, never so confused and mixed ; a man beside him- 
self with vexation and chagrin. 

" ' My daughter! Oh, my ducats ! Oh, my daughter! 
Fled with a Christian ! Oh, my Christian ducats ! 
Justice ! the law ! my ducats and my daughter I ' 

"I saw a Jew once, in Tunis, tear his hair, his rai- 
ment, fling himself in the sand, and writhe in a rage, 
about a question of money, — beside himself with 
passion. I saw him again, self-possessed and fawning ; 
and again, expressing real gratitude for a trifling 
money courtesy. He was never undignified until he 
tore at his hair and flung himself down, and then he 



BOSTON AND SHYLOCK. 231 

was picturesque ; he was old, but erect, even stately, 
and full of resource, and as he walked behind his team 
of mules he carried himself with the lofty air of a 
king. He was a Spanish Jew, — Shylock probably 
was of Frankfort ; but Shakespeare's Jew was a type, 
not a mere individual : he was a type of the great, 
grand race, — not a mere Hounsditch usurer. He was 
a man famous on the Rialto ; probably a foremost man 
in his synagogue ; proud of his descent ; conscious of 
his moral superiority to many of the Christians who 
scoffed at him, and fanatic enough, as a religionist, to 
believe that his vengeance had in it the element of a 
godlike justice. Now, you say that some of my 
critics evidently look for more fire in the delivery of 
the speeches to Solanio, and I have heard friends say, 
that John Kemble and the Keans brought down the 
house for the way they thundered out the ' threats 
against Antonio, and the defence of the Jewish race. 
It is in this scene that we realize, for the first time, that 
Shylock has resolved to enforce his bond. Three 
times, during a very short speech, he says, ^ Let him 
look to his bond I' 'A beggar that was used to come 
so smug upon the mart; let hhn loolc to his bond; 
he was wont to call me usurer ; let him looh to his 
bond; he was wont to lend money for a Christian 
courtesy ; let him looh to his bond.'' Now, even an 
ordinary man, who had made up his mind to Miave 
the heart of him if he forfeit,' would not shout and 
rave and storm. My friend at Tunis tore his hair at 
a trifling disappointment ; if he had resolved to stab 
his rival he would have muttered his intention between 



232 IMFBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

his teeth, not have screeched it. How much less 
Hkely still would this bitterly persecuted Jew mer- 
chant of Venice have given his resolve a loud and 
noisy utterance ! Would not his settled hate have 
been more likely to show itself in the clinched hand, 
the firmly planted foot, the flashing eye, and the deep 
undertones in which he would utter the closing threat : 
^ Let him looh to his bond"? I think so." 

" And so do the most thoughtful among your audi- 
ences. Now and then, however, a critic shows himself 
so deeply concerned for what is called tradition that he 
feels it incumbent upon him to protest against a Shy- 
lock who is not, from first to last, a transparent and 
noisy ruffian." 

" Tradition ! One day we will talk of that. In 
Davenant's time, — and some dare to say he got his 
tradition from Shakespeare himself — they played 
Shylock as a comic character, in a red wig ; and to make 
it, as they thought, consistent, they cut out the noblest 
lines the author had put into his mouth, and added some 
of their own. We have no tradition in the sense that 
those who would insist upon our observance of it means ; 
what we have is bad, — Garrick played Othello in a 
red coat and epaulettes ; and if we are to go back to 
Shakespeare's days, some of these sticklers for so-called 
tradition forget that the women were played by boys. 
Shakespeare did the best he could in his day, and he 
would do the best he could if he were living now. 
Tradition ! It is enough to make one sick to hear the 
pretentious nonsense that is talked about the stage in 
the name of tradition. It seems to me that there are 



BOSTON AND SIIYLOCK. 233 

two ways of representing Shakespeare. You have 
seen David's picture of Napoleon and that by 
Delaroche. The first is a heroic figure, — head 
thrown back, arm extended, cloak flying, — on a 
white horse of the most powerful, but unreal, charac- 
ter, which is rearing up almost upon its haunches, its 
forelegs pawing the air. That is Napoleon crossing 
the Alps. I think there is lightning in the clouds. It 
is a picture calculated to terrify ; a something so un- 
earthly in its suggestion of physical power as to cut it 
off from human comprehension. Now, this represents 
to me one way of playing Shakespeare. The other 
picture is still the same subject, 'Napoleon crossino- 
the Alps ' ; but in this one we see a reflective, deep- 
browed man, enveloped in his cloak, and sitting upon 
a sturdy mule, which, with a sure and steady foot, is 
climbing the mountain, led by a peasant guide. This 
picture represents to me the other way of playing 
Shakespeare. The question is, which is right? I 
think the truer picture is the right cue to the poet 
who himself described the actor's art as to hold, as it 
were, the mirror up to nature." 

" Which should bring us very naturally back to Shy- 
lock. Let us return to your brief dissertation at the 
point where he is meditating vengeance in case of for- 
feiture of the bond." 

" Well, the latest mood of Shy lock dates from this 
time, — it is one of implacable revenge. Nothing 
shakes him. He thanks God for Antonio's ill-luck. 
There is in this darkness of his mind a tender recoUec- 
lection of Leah. And then the calm command to 



234 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Tubal, * Bespeak me an officer.' What is a little odd 
is his request that Tubal shall meet him at the syna- 
gogue. It might be that Shakespeare suggested here 
the idea of a certain sacredness of justice in Shylock's 
view of vengeance on Antonio. Or it might be to 
accentuate the religious character of the Jew's habits ; 
for Shylock was assuredly a religious Jew, strict in his 
worship, and deeply read in his Bible, — no small 
tiling, this latter knowledge, in those days. I think 
this idea of something divine in his act of vengeance 
is the key-note to the trial-scene, coupled, of com-se, 
with the intense provocation he has received. 

" * Thou calledst me dog before thou hadst a cause; 
But since I am a dog, beware ray fangs ! 
The duke shall grant me justice. 
. . . . Follow not, 
I'll have no speaking; I will have my bond.* 

"These are the words of a man of fixed, implacable 
purpose, and his skilful defence of it shows him to be 
wise and capable. He is the most self-possessed man 
in the court. Even the duke, in the judge's seat, is 
moved by the situation. What does he say to An- 
tonio ? 

" ' I am sorry for thee ; thou art come to answer 
A stony adversary.' 

"Everything indicates a stern, firm, persistent, im- 
placable purpose, which in all our experience of men 
is, as a rule, accompanied by an apparently calm man- 



BOSTON AND SHYLOCK. 235 

ner. A man's passion which unpacks itself in oaths 
and threats, which stamps and swears and shouts, may- 
go out in tears, but not in vengeance. On the other 
hand, there are those who argue that Antonio's refer- 
ence to his own patience and to Shylock's fury implies 
a noisy passion on the part of the Jew ; but, without 
taking advantage of any question as to the meaning 
of *fury' in this connection, it seems to me that 
Shylock's contempt for his enemies, his sneer at Gra- 
tiano : — 

" * Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, 
Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud ' — 

and his action throughout the court scene, quite out- 
weigh any argument in favor of a very demonstra- 
tive and furious representation of the part. ^ I stand 
here for law ! ' Then note when he realizes the force 
of the technical flaws in his bond, — and there are 
lawyers who contend the law was severely and uncon- 
stitutionally strained in this decision of the court, — he 
is willing to take his bond paid thrice ; he cannot get 
that, he asks for the principal ; when that is refused he 
loses his temper, as it occurs to me, for the first time 
during the trial, and in a rage exclaims, * Why, then, 
the devil give liim good of it ! ' There is a peculiar 
and special touch at the end of that scene which, I 
think, is intended to mark and accentuate the crush- 
ing nature of the blow which has fallen upon him. 
When Antonio stipulates that Shylock shall become a 
Christian, and record a deed of gift to Lorenzo, the 
Jew cannot speak. * He shall do this,' says the duke, 



236 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

^ or else I do recant the pardon.' Portia turns and 
questions him. He is hardly able to utter a word. ^I 
am content,' is all he says ; and what follows is as plain 
an instruction as was ever written in rcGrard to the 
conduct and manner of the Jew. ^ Clerk, draw a deed 
of gift,' says Portia. Note Shylock's reply, his last 
words, the answer of the defeated litigant, who is 
utterly crushed and borne down : — 

" ' I pray you give me leave to go from hence ; 
I am not well ; send the deed after me, 
And I will sign it.' 

" Is it possible to imagine anything more helpless than 
this final condition of the Jew ? ^ I am not well ; give 
me leave to go from hence ! ' Hoav interesting it is to 
think this out ! and how much we all learn from the 
actors when, to the best of their ability, they give the 
characters they assume as if they were really present, 
working out their studies, in their own way, and endow- 
ing them with the characterization of their own indi- 
viduality ! It is cruel to insist that one actor shall 
simply follow in the footsteps of another ; and it is 
unfair to judge an actor's interpretation of a character 
, from the stand-point of another actor ; his intention 
should be considered, and he should be judged from 
the point of how he succeeds or fails in carrying it out.' 



A CITY OF SLEIGHS. 237 



XI. 

A CITY OF SLEIGHS. 

Snow and Sleigh Bells — " Bi-ooks of Sheffield " — In the Boston Suburbs 
— Smokeless Coal — At the Somerset Club — Miss Ellen Terry and the 
Papyrus — A Ladies' Night — Club Literature — Curious Minutes — 
"Greeting to Ellen Terry" — St. Botolph — Oliver Wendell Holmes 
and Charles the First — " Good-by and a Meny Christmas." 

I. 

" A TRANSFORMATION" scene, indeed ! " said Irving. 
** Yesterday, autumn winds, bright streets, a rattle of 
traffic — to-day, snow and sleigh-bells — yesterday, 
wheels — to-day, runners, as they call the enormous 
skating-irons upon which they appear to have placed 
every vehicle in the city. I have just returned from re- 
hearsal, and find everybody sleighing. The omnibuses 
are sleighs — the grocer's cart is a sleigh — the express- 
wagons are sleighs ; it is a city of sleighs ! The snow 
began to fall in earnest yesterday. Last night it must 
have been a foot deep. It would have ruined the busi- 
ness at a London theatre. Here it made no difference. 
We had a splendid house." 

" As I walked to my hotel at midnight," I replied, 
" snow-ploughs were in the streets clearing the roads 
and scouring the car-tracks. Boston tackles the snow 
in earnest. The trees on the Common were a marvel 
of beauty. They looked like an orchard of the Hes- 
perides, all in blossom, and the electric lamps added 
to the fairy-like beauty of the scene." 



238 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

" A lovely city. Shall we take a sleigh-ride ? " 

" ^ Why, certainly,' as they say in ' The Colonel,' but 

rarely in America." 

Irvino^ rinses for his colored attendant. He has dis- 
cs f5 

covered that liis surname is Brooks, and takes a curious 
pleasure in addressing him as Brooks, sometimes as 
"Brooks, of Sheffield!" 

" Order me a sleigh. Brooks ! " 

"Yes, sah," says Brooks, grinning. 

" Two horses. Brooks ! " 

"Yes, sah," says the attendant, preparing to go, not 
hurriedly, for who ever saw a colored gentleman (they 
are all colored gentlemen) in a hurry? 

" And take my rugs down ! " 

"Yes, sah," he says, marching slowly into the next 
room for the rugs. 

"And, Brooks — " 

" Yes, sah." 

" Would you like to go to the theatre one night ? " 

"Berry much, sah — yes, sah." 

" What play would you like to see ? " 

"Hamlet, sah!" 

"Hamlet! Yery good. Is there a Mrs. Brooks?" 

" 'Deed there is, sah," answers the darkey, grinning 
from ear to ear. 

"And some little Brookses — of Sheffield?" 

"Yes, sah; not ob Sheffield, ob Boston." 

"That's all right. Mr. Stoker shall give all of you 
seats. See if he is in the hotel." 

"Yes, sah." 

As he stalks to the door Stoker comes bounding 



A CITY OF SLEIGHS. 239 

in (Stoker is always on the run) , to the discomfiture of 
Brooks and his load of rugs. 

Brooks picks himself up with dignity. Stoker assures 
his chief that there is not a seat in the house for any- 
body. 

" Then buy some for Brooks," says Irving. 

" Where ? " asks Stoker, in amazement. 

"Anywhere," says Irving, adding, with a significant 
glance at me, — "from the speculators." 

"Oh, very well, if you wish it," says Stoker. 

"And, Brooks" — 

"Yes, sah." 

" Anybody else in the hotel like to go ? " 

"Oh, yes, indeed, sah ! " says Brooks — "de cook, sah." 

"And what play would the cook like to see ? " 

"Hamlet, sah." 

" You've been paid to say this ! " says Irving, quot- 
ing from Louis. " Who bade you do it? " 

But this was only whispered in a humorous " aside " 
for me, who know how much he likes Hamlet, and 
how much he likes other people to like Hamlet. 

At the door of the Brunswick we find a sleigh, 
pair of horses, smart-looking driver, a heap of rugs 
and furs, under which we ensconce ourselves. The 
weather is bitterly cold, the sky blue ; the windows 
of the houses in the fine streets of the Back Bay dis- 
trict flash icily ; the air is sharp, and the sleigh-bells 
ring out aggressively as the horses go away. 

The snow is too deep for rapid sleighing ; there has 
been no time for it to solidify. It is white and pure as 
it has fallen, and when we get out into the suburbs 



240 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

it is dazzling to the eyes, almost painful. Crossing 
the Charles river the scene is singularly picturesque : 
a cumbersome old barge in the foreground ; on the 
opposite shore a long stretch of red-brick buildings, 
vanishing at the point where the heights of Brookline 
climb away, in white and green and grey undulations, 
to the bright blue sky. As we enter Cambridge there 
are fir-trees growing out of the snow, their sombre 
greens all the darker for the white weight that bows 
their branches down to the drifts that wrap their trunks 
high up ; for here and there the snow has drifted until 
there are banks of it five and six feet deep. 

" Very pretty, these villas ; nearly all wood, — do 
you notice? — very comfortable, I am sure ; lined with 
brick, I am told, some of them. Nearly all have bal- 
conies or verandas ; and there are trees and gardens 
everywhere, — must be lovely in summer ; good enough 
now, for that matter. One thing makes them look a 
trifle lonely, — no smoke coming from the chimneys. 
They burn anthracite coal, — good for this atmosphere, 
— excellent and clean ; but how a bit of blue smoke 
curling up among the trees finishes and gives poetry to 
a landscape, — suggests home and cosey firesides, eh?" 

"Yes. New York owes some of its clear atmosphere 
to its smokeless coal." 

" What a pity we don't have it in London ! Only 
fancy a smokeless London, — what a lovely city ! " 

" It may come about one day, either by the adoption 
of smokeless coal or the interposition of the electrician. 
Last summer I spent some time in the Swansea Val- 
ley, England, not far from Craig-y-nos, the British 



A CITY OF SLEIOnS. 241 

home of Patti. One day I suddenly noticed that there 
was no smoke over the villages ; none at some local iron- 
works, except occasional bursts of white steam from the 
engine-houses ; nothing to blemish the lovely sky that 
just slightly touched the mountain-tops with a grey mist. 
I was near Ynyscedwyn, the famous smokeless-coal dis- 
trict of South Wales. London need not burn another 
ounce of bituminous coal ; there is enough anthracite 
in Wales to supply all England for a thousand years." 

" What a blessing it would be if London were to use 
nothing else ! *' 

Through Cambridge, so intimately associated with 
Longfellow, past its famous colleges, we skirted 
Brookline, and returned to our head-quarters in Clar- 
endon street, meeting on the way many stylish sleighs 
and gay driving-parties. 

On another day Irving took luncheon with a little 
party of undergraduates in Common hall, was received 
by the President of the college, inspected the gym- 
nasium, saw the theatre, and had long talks with 
several of the professors. 

Perhaps from a literary and artistic stand-point the 
most interesting social event among the many entertain- 
ments given to Irving was a dinner given by Mr. 
Charles Fairchild and Mr. James R. Ossrood, at the 
Somerset Club. The company included Messrs. T. B. 
Aldrich, A. V. S. Anthony, Francis Bartlett, William 
Bliss, George Baty Blake, S. L. Clemens ("Mark 
Twain"), T. L. Higginson, W. D. Howells, Laurence 
Hutton, W. M. LafFan, Francis A. Walker, George 
E. Waring, and William Warren. After dinner the 



242 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

conversation was quite as brilliant as the company. 
Mark Twain told some of his best stories in his best 
manner. Mr. Howells and Mr. Aldrich in no wise fell 
short of their reputations as conversationalists. There 
were no drinking of toasts, no formal speeches, which 
enlianced the general joy of the whole company. 

Driving homewards along the Common, Irving said, 
" By gas-light, and in the snow, is not this a littJe like 
the Green park, with, yonder, the clock-tower of the 
Houses of Parliament ? " 

" Do you wash it were ? " 

"I wouldn't mind it for an hour or two, eh? 
Although one really sometimes hardly feels that one 
is out of London." 

II. 

"Ladies' Night. — The Papyrus Club request the 
pleasure of the company of Miss Ellen Terry at the 
Revere House, December 15th, at six o'clock. Boston, 
1883. Please reply to J. T. Wheelwright, 39 Court 
street." ^ 



^Ladies' Night at the Papyrus. — The Ladies' Night entertain- 
ment of the Papyrus Club, which has come to be accepted as one of the 
annual features of that organization, took place at the Revere House last 
night, and the occasion proved to be one of exceptional interest and brill- 
iancy. The Papyrus includes in its membership a large number of clever 
men, and, Avith their guests who assembled last evening to partake of 
the club's hospitality, the company made up a most delightful and distin- 
guished gathering. The after-dinner exercises, which were not per- 
mitted to be reported in full, were of a most entertaining character; 
the speeches of the distinguished gentlemen guests, and the contribu- 
tions in prose and verse by some of the members of the club, being very 
bright and enjoyable. The members and their guests assembled in the 
hotel parlors at six o'clock, where they were received by the president 



A CITY OF SLEIGHS. 243 

Thus ran the invitation, which was adorned with a 
miniature view of the Pyramids in a decorative setting 
of the reed that is familiar to travellers in the Nile 
valley. 

of the club, Mr. George F. Babbitt, assisted by Miss Fay. Music was 
furnished by tlie Germaaia Orchestra, and, after an hour spent in introduc- 
tory ceremonies, the members and their guests, numbering altogether one 
hundred and twenty ladies and gentlemen, proceeded to the dining-hail 
and sat down to the dinner-table, which was arranged in horseshoe form. 
The tables were artistically decorated with flowers, and at each plate was 
placed a dinner-card, beai-ing the name of each guest, and a m(^nu of an 
exceedingly artistic design, the front cover bearing a photograph of 
the club paraphernalia, very cleverly grouped, and bearing the inscription : 
"Papyrus, Ladies' Night. December 15th, MDCCCLXXXIII." Presi- 
dent Babbitt sat in the centre, with Miss Fay at his right and Miss Ellen 
Terry at his left. On either side of the presideat were seated Miss Alcott, 
Mr. Joseph Hatton, Dr. Burnett and Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, Gen. 
Francis A. Walker and INIrs. Walker, Mr. Henry Cabot Lodge, Captain 
Story, U.S.A. ; Mr. Guy Carlcton, of New York, editor of " Life," and 
Mr. J. A. Mitchell, assistant editor ; Rev. and Mrs. Brooke Hereford, Dr. 
John G.Blake and Mrs. Blake, INIr. W. H. Ptideing and Mrs. John Lillie, 
the author of "Prudence," and Rev. and Mrs. H. B. Carpenter. Among 
the other members and guests present were Miss Nora Perry and Miss 
Noble, the author of " A Reverend Idol"; Mr. and Mrs. Robert Grant, 
Mr. F. J. Stimson, the author of " Guerndale," and Mrs. Stirason; Dr. 
Harold Williams, the author of " Mr. and Mrs. Morton"; Mr. Arthur 
Rotch and Mis. Van Renssellaer, Mr. and Mrs. W. F. Apthorp, Mr. A. II. 
Dodd, Mrs. Dodd, and Miss Dodd ; Mr. Henry M. Rogers and Mr. George 
Abbot James ; Miss Gage, Mr. and Mrs. Howard M. Ticknor, and Mrs. 
S. A. Bigelow; Mrs. C. II. Washburne, Mr. George Suell, Mrs. Bacon, 
and Mrs. Charles Whitmore ; Mr. Alexander Young, Mr. George Roberts, 
Mr. John T. Wheelwright, Mr. L. S. Ipsen, Mr. Alexander Browne and 
Miss Edraundson, Mr. Frank Hill Smith, and Mrs, Henry Fay ; Mr. Arlo 
Bates, Dr. and Mrs. James Chadwick, Colonel Theodore A. Dodge, and 
Mrs. Crowninsiiield ; Mr. and Mrs. F. P. Vinton, Mr Francis Peabody, 
Jr. ; Mr. Russell Sullivan, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Albert Prince, Miss 
Minot, Mr, and Mrs. Gordon Prince, Mr. and Mrs. F. V. Parker, Mr. and 
Mrs. E, L. Osgood, Mr. and Mrs. George M. Towle, Mr. H. G. Pickering, 
Mr. and Mrs. W. II. Sayward, and Mrs. R. G. Shaw ; Mr. T. O. Langcr- 
felt. "Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Foote, Mr. Sigourney Butler, Miss Butler, and 
Miss Shimmin ; Mr. and Mrs. R. G. Fitch, Mr. and Mrs. George B. Good- 
win, Mr. V\^. B. Clarke, Mr. and Mrs. C. A. Campbell, Mr. G. W. Chad- 



244 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Miss Teny concluded to accept, and I had the honor 
of being her escort. The handsome rooms of the 
Revere House that were devoted to the service of the 
club on this occasion were crowded with ladies and 

wick, Mr. Preston, Mr. and Mrs. F. E. Wright, Mrs. G. A. Gibson, Mr. 
and Mrs. L. L. Scaife, and Mr. and Mrs. J. E. Woods. At the conclusion 
of the dinner the president proposed the health of the assembled company 
in the loving-cup, in accordance with a time-honored custom of the 
Papyrus, the cup passing from guest to guest until it had made the rounds 
of the tables. Many of the gentlemen were merrily cheered as they rose 
to drink from the cup, as were many of the distinguished ladies, who, 
without rising, simply touched the cup to their lips. After this interesting 
ceremony had been gone through with, the president welcomed the com- 
pany in a brief speech, concluding with a toast to Ae lady guests, which 
was drunk standing by the gentlemen present. Rev. H. Bernard Carpenter 
was called upon to respond to the toast, which he did in a neat speech, in 
which pleasant allusions were made to the distinguished ladies of the com- 
pany and their work. He was followed by Mr. John T. Wheelwright, the 
secretarv of the club, who gave a very bright burlesque report of the 
proceedings of the monthly Papyrus meetings. It was made up of clever 
imitations of the poetic and prose contributions of the more active mem- 
bers of the Papyrus, and its numerous hits were received with shouts of 
laughter. Mr. T. E,. Sullivan then read a charming bit of prose ; and then 
came a bright and humorous contribution from Mr. Robert Grant, who 
described, in a very funny way, his experiences as a member of the com- 
mittee on ladies' night some years ago. It abounded in witty allusions to 
the antics of some of the members of the club, and, although the names 
of the characters who figured in the sketch were assumed for the occasion, 
the references to the members of the club were readily recognized. Mr. 
Howard M. Ticknor was then introduced, and read a poem addressed to 
Miss Terry, concluding with a toast in honor of the distinguished lady, 
the mention of whose name elicited enthusiastic applause. Mr. Joseph 
Hatton responded handsomely for Miss Terry, thanking the company for 
their very cordial welcome, and the Papyrus for their elegant hospitality. 
Mr. Arlo Bates read some very pretty songs, and Mr. Guy Carleton 
responded to a toast in honor of " Life," the clever New York paper. Mr. 
W. 11 Savward gave one of his excellent imitations, and the entertainment 
concluded with the performance of " a burlesque operatic monodrama," 
entitled " Titi." The sole dramatis persona, Titi, was assumed by Mr. 
^\ m. F. Apthorp, who sang and recited the monodrama in costume, being 
accompanied on the piano by Mr. Arthur Foote. The performance of this 
bright musical composition occupied nearly half an hour, and it was acted 



A CITY OF SLEIGHS. 245 

gentlemen when we arrived. Among the guests in 
whom Miss Terry was especially interested were !Mrs. 
Burnett, the author of " Joan " and other remarkable 
novels ; Miss Noble, the author of " A Reverend Idol " ; 
Miss Fay, Mrs. John Lillie, Mrs. Washbume, and 
other ladies known to the world of letters. She was 
surrounded for a long time by changing groups of 
ladies and gentlemen, who were presented in a pleas- 
ant, informal way by Mr. Babbitt, the president of the 
club, and other of its officers. 

The dinner was a dainty repast (one of the special 
dishes was a "baked English turbot with brown sauce.") 
The details of it were printed upon a photographic 
card which represented the loving-cup, punch-bowl. 
Papyrus' manuscripts, gavel, pen and ink, and treasure- 
box of the institution. 

During dinner Miss Terry was called upon to sign 
scores of the raenu cards with her autograph. Upon 
many of them she scribbled poetic couplets, Shake- 
spearian and otherwise, and on others quaint, appropriate 
lines of her own. She captivated the women, all of them. 
It is easier for a clever woman to excite the admiration 
of her sex in America than in Ensrland. A woman who 
adorns and lifts the feminine intellect into notice in 
America excites the admiration rather than the jealousy 
of her sisters. American women seem to make a higher 

and sung by Mr. Apthorp with exquisite chic and drollery, sei-ving- as a 
fitting finale to the veiy pleasant after-dinner entertainment. The company 
arose from the tables at about half-past ten o'clock, and soon after 
separated, many of the gentlemen going to the St. Botolph Club reception 
to Mr. Ii-ving, which was appointed for eleven o'clock. — Boston Satur- 
day Evening Gazette. 



24(5 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

claims upon the respect and attention of men than be- 
longs to the ambitious English women, and when one 
of them rises to distinction they all go up with her. 
Thej share in her fame ; they do not try to dispossess 
her of the lofty place upon which she stands. There is 
a sort of trades-unionism among the women of America 
in this respect. They hold together in a ring against 
the so-called lords of creation ; and the men are content 
to accept what appears to be a happy form of petticoat 
government. So the women of Boston took Ellen 
Terry to their arms and made much of her. 

After dinner the President expressed, in quaint terms, 
the club's welcome of its guests, and the Secretary 
read the following official and authorized 

REPORT OF THE LAST MEETING. 

Scene. — The Banqueting Hall of the Fajiyrus Club. The 
'members, reclining in the Boman fashion, sip the cool Falerniaii 
from richly-chased patercB, luhile the noiseless attendants re- 
move the wild Etrusian boar {the only one in the club) . The 
President raps sharpily upon the table with his gavel. 

Spurius Lartius (a provincial guest from a hamlet called 
New York) . — Truly, Marcenas, the ruler of the feast is a 
goodly youth ; a barbarian by his golden beard, I ween. 

Marcexas (a literary r)iember of the club, who derives his 
income, in ivhole or in part, from the fact that his father is 
working.) — " Non Anglus sed Angelus." Perhaps, some day. 
But, mark, he is calling npon a player for a speech, one of a 
strolling band which hath of late amused the town. 

Spurius Lartius. — Me herculi. 'Tis Wyndham. I have 
seen him oft in Terence''s comedy, " Pink Dominoes." 

Wyndham arises, X)ulls down his tunic, and makes a neat 
speech. (Cheers and applause.) 

The President. Gentlemen, we have among us to-night 



A CITY OF SLEIGHS. 247 

an inspired Prophet ; the Chronicler of the Gospels accordino- 
to St. Benjamin. 

The Prophet arises, takes a stone tablet from his waistcoat- 
pocket, and reads 

The Gospel according to St. Benjamin. 

Chapter xiv. 

1. And lo ! it was the fall of the year, and the greatest fall 
was that of Benjamin. 

2. And his lyre was hushed. 

3. Yet he stretched his hand out mito the people and cried, 
" Lo, I like this ! I would rather be put under the people, 
having the suffrages of a hundred and fifty thousand, than be 
put over them with the sulfrages of a hundred and thirty-five 
thousand. 

4. And the people smote their knees and laughed, and cried 
"If thou likest it, Benjamin, so we do, also. Go to, and 
write a Thanksgiving proclamation." 

5. And he did. 

{The stone tablet falls upon a Jinger-boivl with a crash, and 
the club votes that the Chronicles be printed at the Prop)hefs 
expense.) 

Spukius Lartius. — But who is this man, that arises with 

flashing eye and curling lip ? Mayhap Jie is a Kelt. 

MARCENAS.~He is a Kelt, from Keltville, and a poet to 
boot. 

The Poet arises and reads 



A BUNCH OF ROSES. 

Sweet rose ! In thee the summer bides ; 
Thy deep, red breast a secret hides, 
Which none may knoAv but only she 
Whose eyes are stars lit up for me. 

Red rose ! Unto her sweetly speak. 
And glow against her burning cheek; 
Ah ! breathe this in her shell-like ear, — 
"Thou makest it summer all the year." 

Spurius Lartius. — I should imagine the rose to be a waiter, 
from the instruction to " breathe in her shell-like ear." 



248 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Poet. — A moment. There is a third stanza to this poem, 
written on receiving the florist's -bill : — 

Great Scott ! List to my heart's dull thud I 
Thou hast a dollar cost a bud. 
She is now my rival's bride ; 
Again I'll wear that ulster tried. 

The President. — And now the gentleman at the end of the 
long table will tell one of his inimitable anecdotes. 

The Gentleman at the End of tpie Long Table. — 
Trade is so dull now that the anecdote market is overstocked. 
The bon-mot and jest mills are rolling up their products ; but 
middlemen are cautious, and consumers wary. The stock of 
last years " chestnuts " ^ is being worked oft'; and I have one, a 
little shop-worn, which I have dusted for the occasion : — 

TJie Fable of the Inquisitive old Bro'ker and the Queer Bundle. 

An inquisitive old broker noticed a queer bundle upon the 
lap of a man sitting opposite him in the horse-car. He looked 
at the bundle, in wonder as to what it might contain, for some 
minutes ; finally, overmastered by curiosity, he inquired : — 

" Excuse me, sir ; but would you mind telling me what is in 
that extraordinary bundle?" 

"Certainly; a mongoose,'' replied the man, who was read- 
ing " Dont," and learning how to be a real, true gentleman. 

"Ah, indeed!" ejaculated the broker, with unslacked curi- 
osity. . . . " But what is a mongoose, pray?" 

" Something to kill snakes with." 

" But why do you wish to kill snakes with a mongoose?" 
asked the broker. 

" My brother has the delirum tremens and sees snakes all the 
time. I am going to lix 'em." 

" But, my dear sir, the snakes which your brother sees in his 
delirium are not real snakes, but the figments of his diseased 
imagination, — not real snakes, sir! " 

" Well ! this is not a real mongoose." — Moral. Ask me no 
questions, and Fll tell you no lies. 

Spurius Lartius. — I always liked that story. My father 
used to tell it. 

^ In America *' chestnut" is a slang phrase for an old story. 



A CITY OF SLEIGHS. 249 

Marcenas. — Hush, Spurius; the club Vers de socUte writer 
is about to favor us. 

The Club Vers de Socii^te Writer. — I have, in my 
pocket, some dainty verses. I have long written rondeaux, trio- 
lets, and pantouns. 

I have, however, lately invented two new metres. 

The first is called a " cabriolet," and the other is a combina- 
tion of a pantoun and a triolet, called a pantalet. 

I will read them to you if you will be very, very still, for 
they are as delicate as porcelain : — 

A BRITON'S WAIL IN NEW YORK CITY. 

(A Cahriolet.') 

I hired me a hack, 
I cried out "Alack ! " 
I must dine upon bread; 
I gave up my purse. 
Never ride in a hack 
Unless you are dead ; 
Then ride in a hearse, 
Lying fiat on your back. 
I hired me a hack ! 
I would I were dead ! 

"PELLUCID HER EYE.*» 

{A Pantalet.^ 

But, oh ! I was dry, 

And the starved dancers crushed, 

Till my shirt-front was mushed. 

The champagne was dry — 

I cannot say why ; 

But the night-bird was hushed, 

Yet the throstle-wits tlirushed — 

I cannot say wliy ; 

(The champagne was dry). 

Ah. pellucid her eye ! 
And her oval cheek flushed 
Like a strawberry crushed. 
How pellucid her eye ! 
I cannot say why — 
(The champagne was dry). 



250 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

I sighed, " Let us fly ! " 
She smiled not nor gushed, 
But from me she rushed. 
Maphap I seemed " fly " 
The wine was quite dry. 
But pellucid her eye, 
I cannot say why. 

This report having been voted correct, and ordered 
to be inscribed on the minutes, Mr. Howard M. Tick- 
nor then recited, with excellent elocutionary point, the 
following " Greeting to Ellen Terry " : — 



Honor," said Cassius, " is my story's theme." 
Honor shall best ray verse to-night beseem. 



For some, how safe, how permanent, how sure ! 

Written in characters that will endure, 

Until this world begins to melt away 

And crumble to its ultimate decay. 

The picture fades ; but color still is there, 

Even in ruin is the statue fair ; 

The province won, the city burnt or built, 

The inwrought consequence of good or guilt, 

Shape after epochs to time's latest span, 

And link enduringly a man to man. 

But he who is himself artist and art, 

Whose greatest vrorks are of himself a part ; 

Who, sculptor, moulds his hand, his form, his face; 

Who, painter, on the air his lines must trace; 

Musician, make an instrument his voice, 

And tell, not write, the melody of his choice; 

Whose eloquence of gesture, pose and eye 

Flashes aglow, in instant dark to die ; — 

Where are for him the honor and the fame? 

A face on canvas, and perhaps a name 

Extolled awhile, and then an empty word 

At sound of which no real thrill is stirred. 

What, then, shall recompense his loss? What make 

Atonement for the ignorant future's sake? 

What but the tribute of his honor now. 

The native wreath to deck his living brow? 

Then, as he passes beyond the mortal ken, 
His glory shall go with him even then, 



A CITY OF SLEIGHS. 251 

Not as a hope, a doubt, and a desire, 

But as a spark of his own living fire, 

Of his eternal self a priceless part, 

Eternal witness to his mind and heart. 

And so, to-night, when she who conies from far 

To show in one what many women are. 

Sits at our board, and makes our evening shine. 

Breaks bread with us, and pledges in our wine. 

Let us be quick to honor in our guest 

So many a phase of life by her expressed. 

Portia's most gracious, yet submissive word — - 

*' You are my king, my governor, my lord ; " 

Her courage, dignity, and force, 

"Warning the Jew that justice shall have course; 

The trenchant wit of Beatrice, and her pride. 

Her loyalty as friend, her faith as bride ; 

Letitia's stratagems ; the tragic fate 

Of sweet Ophelia, crushed by madness' weight. 

How many chords of happiness or woe. 
Her lips that quiver and her cheeks that glow ; 
Her speech now clear, now clouded, and her eyes 
Pilling by turns with anguish, mirth, surprise — 
Can wake to throb, again to rest can still — 
Potent her power as Prospero's magic will ! 

Present alone is hers — alone is ourg. 

Now, while she plants, must we, too, cull the flowers? 

For future wreaths she has no time to wait ; 

Unready now, they are for aye too late. 

Now is the moment our regard to show. 

Let every face with light of welcome glow ; 

Let smiles shine forth, glad words be spoken ; 

Formality for once be broken. 

Let hand strike hand, let kerchiefs wave, 

Keep not her laurels for her grave ; 

Twine our proud chaplet for her fair, smooth brow, 

And bid her take our share of tribute now ; 

Then shall it be a recollection dear. 

That we to-night greet Ellen Terry here ! 



III. 

Irying, who could not be present at the Papyrus 
Club (it was one of Miss Terry's " ofF nights," when 
either "The Bells" or "Louis XI." was performed), 



252 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

was received at the St. Botolph's Club soon after 
the Papyrus festivities closed. In the absence of the 
President, ex-Mayor Green, the Vice-President, and 
Mr. Secretary Sullivan did the honors of the even- 
inor. An interesting: meetinf]: on this occasion was the 
introduction of Irving to Oliver Wendell Holmes, who 
later, at the matinee performance of " Charles the 
First," ^ was quite overcome with the pathos of the 
play. Apart from the number and enthusiasm of 
his audiences, Mr. Irving's personal reception by the 
leading men of Boston — litterateurs^ professors, and 
scholars — might w^ell have given point to the few 
eloquent w^ords w^iich he addressed to the house on the 
closing performance of "The Bells" and "The Belle's 
Stratas^em." He said : — 

tin the second act thei-e were occasionally passages where Mr. Inking 
spoke one or more lines in a manner Avhich so nearly touched the heart 
with sadness, so closely appealed to the feelings, that nothing but the brill- 
iancy of his art stood between. His interview with Cromwell was some- 
thing grand. The patience shown could hardly belong to anything less 
than royalty, and the majestic tone thrown into the line, " Uncover in the 
presence of your king," indicated a conception of conscious authority 
Avhich could hardly be improved. But by far the greatest artistic triumph 
was his delivery of the short speech at the close of the third act. The 
tone in which the lines were spoken was simply grand, and when they 
were finished the pity of the audience was instinctively bestowed upon the 
betrayer rather than the betrayed. Miss Terry as the queen won a con- 
siderable success. Her sincere love and devotion to the king and her 
children were exhibited by the finest tokens, and with a simplicity which 
would not admit the thought of extravagance or affection. Her appeal to 
Cromwell for the life of the king was well worthy a queen ; but her dis- 
dainful refusal of the otFer to release him in case he would abdicate was 
something remai-kablc and unique. But her brightest laurel was won in 
the final parting with the king as he went to the execution. The little 
shriek she utters at the king when he breaks the embrace in which she 
holds him, appealed directly to the emotions, and seemed to be the ciy of 
a heart that was breaking. — Boston Post. 



A CITY OF SLEIGES, 253 

Ladies and Gentlemen,— I have tlie privilege of 
thanking you, for myself, and in behalf of my com- 
rades, and especially in behalf of my gifted sister, Miss 
Ellen Terry, for the way in which you have received our 
tragedy, comedy, and melodrama. In coming to this 
country I have often said that I felt I was coming 
among friends; and I have had abundant and most 
touching proof that I was right. This I have never 
felt more truly than in your historic city of New Eng- 
land, which seems a veritable bit of old England. In 
this theatre we have been on classic ground, and if we 
have, while upon these boards, accomplished anything 
tending, in your opinion, to the advancement of a 
great art, in which we are all deeply interested, we are 
more than repaid and more than content. It affords me 
great pleasure to tell you that, if all be well, we shall 
return to Boston in March, when I hope to present, for 
the first time on our tour, " Much Ado About Noth- 
ino-." And now, ladies and gentlemen, in the names 
of one and all, I gratefully thank you, and respectfidly 
wish you " Good-by, and a Merry Christmas." 



254 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



XIT. 

LOOKING FORWARD TO CHRISTMAS. 

Intei-viewing in England and America — Rehearsing Eicliard and Lady 
Ann — Reminiscences of a Christmas Dinner — A Homely Feast — Joe 
Robins and Guy Fawkes — He would he an Actor — The Luxury of 
Warmth — "One Touch of Nature." 

I. 

There is interviewing and interviewing. How it 
comes out depends upon the interviewer and the inter- 
viewed. Every phase of the difficult art is shown in 
American journalism. Mr. Yates, in the "World," 
has given us the best modern form of interviewing in 
" Celebrities at Home." Mr. Blowitz, of the " Times," 
and other foreign correspondents, have frequently shown 
England how admirably the American system fits a 
certain class of news. "The Pall Mall Gazette" has 
lately adopted the method of our cousins more in de- 
tail than has been liitherto popular with the London 
press. I have always held that interviewing, con- 
ducted with discretion and a sense of journalistic 
responsibility, would be a valuable and entertaining 
feature of English newspaper work. 

I am prompted to these remarks by the contents of 
this chapter. Said Mr. Stephen Fiske, the dramatic 
editor of "The Spirit of the Times," and the author of 
a clever book on England, " I am anxious to have Mr. 
Irving write a short story for our Christmas number. 



LOOKING FORWARD TO CHRISTMAS. 255 

AYilkie Collins, as you know, is a constant contributor, 
and we have the assistance of some of the best pens, 
English and American. Irving has written for several 
English publications." 

" He has a wonderful amount of energy, and can do 
more mental work in a given time than any man I know ; 
but when he is going to get an opportunity to sit down 
and write a Christmas story is more than I can tell." 

"I only want a personal reminiscence, an anecdote 
or two,'" said Fiske ; "but I must have him in the 
Christmas number." 

" Why don't you interview him, with Christmas as 
the pivot of your interrogations ? " I asked. 

" He has been interviewed almost to death, I should 
think." 1 

" Oh, no ; I believe he likes it ! I am sure he does 
when a really bright, clever fellow comes along and 
engages his attention. Though he does not say so, 
and, perhaps, has not thought about it, he is doing 
good every time he has a real earnest talk to a reporter 
about the stage and its mission. No actor ever set 
people thinking so much in England, and he is prov- 
ing himself quite an art missionary on this side of the 
Atlantic." 

"That's true," said the dramatic editor; "but for 
my purpose I only want him to be simply entertaining, 
— a bit of personal history, apropos of Christmas." 



1 The trouble touching some of the "Interviews " that appeared in the 
journals was that they were not all genuine. Fiske suggested this fact as 
discounting a " Christmas chat " ; but I undertook to endorse his work by 
"annexing " his " interview " to these pages, and I have to thank him for 
his bright contribution. 



256 IMPRESSIONS GF AMERICA. 

"Play the role of an interviewer, and write the 
stories yourself," I suggested. 

"I will," said Fiske. "Your plan has this advan- 
tage, — I shall get the copy in proper time for the 
printer." 

n. 

And this Christmas chat is the result of the dramatic 
editor's decision. 

" It was a gloomy, rainy, miserable day. The thea- 
tre, always a dreary place in the morning, seemed even 
more depressing than usual. Mr. Irving was rehears- 
ing the first act of ^Richard III.,' possibly with a view 
to Baltimore or Chicago. 

" With that infinite patience which some philosophers 
define as genius, Mr. Irving went over and over 
the lines of Richard and Lady Ann, and acted all the 
business of the scene. His street costume and tall 
silk hat appeared ridiculously incongruous with his 
sword and his words. He knelt upon the stage and 
showed Lady Ann how to take hold of the weapon 
and threaten to kill him. He rose and repeated her 
speeches with appropriate gestures. He knelt again, 
gave her the cues, and watched her from under his 
hea\y eyebrows, while she again rehearsed the scene. 

" Repeated a dozen times, this performance became as 
monotonous as the dripping of the rain without, or the 
slow motions of the cleaners in the front of the theatre. 
At last, with a few final kindly words, the Lady Ann 
was dismissed, and Mr. Irving sat down wearily at the 
prompter's table. 



LOOKING FORWABD TO CHRISTMAS. 257 

" * Where shall you eat your Christmas dinner ? ' I 
inquired. 

" ^ At Baltimore,' replied Mr. Irving. ' Several of 
my company have brought their home-made Christmas 
puddings over with them, and are to carry them about, 
with the rest of the luggage, until the day arrives. 1 
have determined to try the American Christmas pud- 
dings, which, I am told, are very good indeed, — like 
most things American.' 

" ^ Oh, our people manufacture them by thousands ! 
After all, a Cliristmas pudding is only a mince-pie 
boiled.' 

"^ Just so,' said Mr. Irving, laughing in his silent, 
interior, Leatherstocking manner. ' I am thinking,' 
he exclaimed, ^ of the Christmas dinner I gave last 
year, in the room of the old Beefsteak Club, which, 
you know, is now part of the Lyceum Theatre. We 
had talked the matter over, — a few friends and myself, 
— and decided that we were tired of professional cooks 
and conventional bills of fare, and that the best stimu- 
lus for our jaded palates w^as a return to plain, homely 
dishes. 

" 'You can fancy Stoker saying that. He said it over 
and over for at least a month, and kept humming, 
" There's no place — or no dinner — like home," in the 
most disquieting way, whenever the matter was men- 
tioned. He also undertook to arrange the whole 
affair. 

"'Well, it was arranged. There were to be no pro- 
fessional caterers, no professional waiters, no luxuries 
of any kind, — except the wines, which I took under 



258 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

my own care, being cast for tjie part of the butler. 
Stoker was to buy the material. The property-man's 
wife was to roast the beef and the turkey. The mis- 
tress of the wardrobe undertook to boil the pudding. 
An usher, born with a genius for cookery, who was 
discovered by Stoker, had charge of the soup, fish, 
and vegetables. We were to wait upon ourselves, — a 
genuine family party. A suggestion to order ices 
from Gunter's, in case the pudding was a failure, was 
voted down indignantly. 

"'As Christmas approached I became quite inter- 
ested in this home dinner, — hungry for it days in ad- 
vance, as one may say. I began by inviting one 
friend who had a reputation as an epicure ; then 
another asked to be allowed to share our homely feast. 
Presently our family party grew to thirty. I began to 
have forebodings. You see, a small family can wait 
upon themselves, but not a family of thirty. 

"'However, Stoker appeared cheerily satisfied and 
mysteriously complacent, and seemed to think that our 
motto should be " The more the merrier ! " I imagined 
that he had secretly tested some of the home cooking 
beforehand, and rather envied him his position as 
taster. 

" ' The guests were met ; the table set. I had made 
sure that the wines were all right. As I looked along 
at the happy, friendly faces I felt that a home dumer 
was the most pleasant, after all. The soup tureen was 
before me, and I lifted the cover with the anxious pride 
of a Wellington firing the first gun at Waterloo. 

" ' The chance simile of a battle holds good ; for the 



LOOKING FORWARD TO CHRISTMAS. 259 

soup was awfully smoky. Somebody said that it tasted 
like a chimney on fire. The fish was worse. The roast 
beef was uneatable. Persistent as I naturally am, I 
gave up the attempt to carve the turkey. The pudding 
was as hard as a stone. What little appetite remained 
to us was lost while carving the meats and passing the 
plates around. I had felt like Wellington before 
Waterloo ; but, when the dinner was over, I could 
appreciate the despair of the defeated Napoleon. 

" ' Had we been only a family party the fiasco would 
not have been so fatal ; but, as I told you, I had in- 
vited epicures ; I had dragged my friends from their 
comfortable homes on Christmas Day to partake of this 
terrible repast. Some of them have never quite for- 
given me. Some have forgiven me, because I had a 
chance to take them aside and put all the blame upon 
Stoker. But nobody who was present can ever have 
forgotten it. 

"^Like Napoleon, I retreated to Fontainebleau, — I 
fell back upon the wines. One of the guests won my 
heart by loudly eulogizing the cheese and the crackers. 
They were not home-made. They had not been cooked 
in the theatre ! 

"^Here comes Stoker,' continued Mr. Irving, re- 
lapsing into his curious solemnity of manner ; ' let us 
ask him about it. 

" ^ I say. Stoker, do you remember the home dinner 
you gave us at the Lyceum last Christmas ? ' 

"Mr. Stoker stopped on his way across the stage, 
and stood like a statue of amazement, of indignation, of 
outraged virtue. ' The dinner / gave you? ' he at last 



260 IMPBESSIONS OF AMEBICA. 

exclaimed. Then his loyalty to his chief triumphed, 
and he added, * Well, you may call it my dinner, if you 
like ; but I have the original copy of the bill of fare 
in your own handwriting.' 

"*Ah!' resumed Mr. Irving, quite placidly, as his 
acting manager dashed away, ^ I thought Stoker 
would remember that dinner ! ' 

"*This Christmas you will dine upon roast canvas- 
backs, instead of roast beef, and stewed terrapin, in- 
stead of smoked soup,' I observed. 

"'Yes,' replied the English actor; 'I am told that 
Baltimore is the best place for those delicacies. But 
they will not seem strange to me ; I have eaten canvas- 
backs at Christmas before.' 



"'In England? 



"'Certainly. My first American manager — Papa 
Bateman you used to call him — had many good 
friends in this country, who kept him liberally supplied 
with almost all your American luxuries. Under his 
tuition I learned to like the oysters, the terrapin, and 
canvas-backs, upon which my generous hosts are feast- 
ing me now, long before I ever thought of coming to 
America. 

" ' But perhaps the most remarkable Christmas dinner 
at which I have ever been present,' continued Mr. 
Irving, after reflecting for a few moments, ' was the 
one at which we dined upon under-clothing.' 

'' ' Do you mean upon your under-clothing or in your 
under-clothing ?' queried the astonished 'Spirit,' con- 
juring up visions of Christmas dinners on uninhabited 
islands, at which shipwrecked mariners had been known 



LOOKING FORWARD TO CHRISTMAS. 2G1 

to devour tlicir apparel, and of the tropical Christmas 
dinners in India and Australia, at which scanty cos- 
tumes are appropriate to tlie climate. 

" ' Both ! ' replied Mr. Irving. ^ It is not a story of 
wonderful adventure ; but I'll tell it to you, if you have 
five minutes more to spare. Do you remember Joe 
Robins, — a nice, genial fellow who played small parts 
in provinces? Ah, no ; that was before your time. 

" ' Joe Robins was once in the gentleman's furnishing 
business in London city. I think that he had a whole- 
sale trade, and was doing well. However, he belonged 
to one of tlie semi -Bohemian clubs ; associated a great 
deal with actors and journalists, and, when an amateur 
performance was organized for some charitable object, 
Joe was cast for the clown in a burlesque called " Guy 
Fawkes." 

" ' Perhaps he played the part capitally ; perhaps his 
friends were making game of him when they loaded 
him with praises ; perhaps the papers for which his 
Bohemian associates wrote went rather too far when 
they asserted that he was the artistic descendant and 
successor of Grimaldi. At any rate, Joe believed all 
that was said to him and written about him, and when 
some wit discovered that Grirnaldi's name was also Joe, 
the fate of Joe Robins was sealed. lie determined to go 
upon the stage professionally and become a great actor. 

" ' Fortunately Joe was able to dispose of his stock 
and good- will for a few hundred pounds, which he in- 
vested so as to give him an income sufficient to prevent 
the wolf from getting inside his door, in case he did 
not eclipse Garrick, Kean, and Kemble. He also 



2G2 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

packed up for himself a liberal supply of his wares, and 
started in the profession with enough shirts, collars, 
handkerchiefs, stockings, and under-clothing to equip 
him for several years. 

"^The amateur success of poor Joe was never re- 
peated on the regular stage. He did not make an ab- 
solute failure ; no manager would entrust him with 
parts big enough for him to fail in. But he drifted 
down to general utility, and then out of London, and 
when I met him he was engaged in a very small way, 
on a very small salary, at a Manchester theatre. 

" * His income eked out his salary ; but Joe was a 
generous, great-hearted fellow, who liked everybody, 
and whom everybody liked, and when he had money he 
was always glad to spend it upon a friend or give it 
away to somebody more needy. So, piece by piece, as 
necessity demanded, his princely supply of haber- 
dashery had diminished, and now only a few sliirts and 
under-clothes remained to him. 

" ^ Christmas came in very bitter weather. Joe had a 
part in the Christmas pantomime. He dressed with 
other poor actors, and he saw how thinly some of them 
were clad when they stripped before him to put on 
their stage costumes. For one poor fellow in especial 
his heart ached. In the depth of a very cold winter 
he was shivering in a suit of very light summer under- 
clothing, and whenever Joe looked at him the wartn 
flannel under-garments snugly packed away in an extra 
trunk weighed heavily upon his mind. 

" ' Joe thought the matter over, and determined to 
give the actors who dressed with him a Cliristmas din- 



LOOKING FORWARD TO CHRISTMAS. 263 

ner. It was literally a dinner upon under-clothing; 
for the most of the shirts and drawers which Joe had 
cherished so long went to the pawnbroker's, or the 
slop-shop^ to provide the money for the meal. 

" ^ The guests assembled promptly, for nobody else is 
ever so hungry as a hungry actor. The dinner was to 
be served at Joe's lodgings, and, before it was placed 
on the table, eJoe beckoned his friend with the gauze 
under-clothes into a bedroom, and, pointing to a chair, 
silently withdrew. 

" ' On that chair hung a suit of under- wear which had 
been Joe's pride. It was of a comfortable scarlet 
color ; it was thick, warm, and heavy ; it fitted the poor 
actor as if it had been manufactured especially to his 
measure. He put it on, and, as the flaming flannels 
encased his limbs, he felt his heart glowing within him 
with gratitude to dear Joe Robins. 

" 'That actor never knew — or, if he knew, he never 
could remember — what he had for dinner on that 
Christmas afternoon. He revelled in the luxury of 
warm garments. The roast beef was nothing to him 
in comparison with the comfort of his under vest ; he 
appreciated the drawers more than the plum-pudding. 
Proud, happy, warm, and comfortable, he felt little 
inclination to eat, but sat quietly, and {hanked Provi- 
dence and Joe Robins with all his heart.' 

" ' You seem to enter into that poor actor's feelings 
very sympathetically,' I observed, as Mr. Irving paused. 

" " I have good reason to do so,' replied Mr. Irving, 
with his gentle, sunshiny smile ; ' for I was that poor 
actor!'" 



2G4 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



xm. 

A WILD EAILWAY JOURNEY. 

A Great American Railway Station — Platforms and Waiting-Rooms — A 
Queer Night — '* Snow is as Bad as Fog " — A Farmer who Suggests 
Mathias in " The Bells" — A Romance of the Hudson — Looking for 
the " Maiyland ' and Finding " The Dauites " — Fighting a Snow-storm 
— "A Ministering Angel" — The Publicity of Private Cars — Myste- 
rious Proceedings — Strange Lights — Snowed up — Digging out the 
Railway Points — A Good Samaritan Locomotive — Trains Ahead of 
Us, Trains Behind Us — Railway Lights and BeUs — "What's Going 
On?" 



" The Irving train is expected to arrive at Jersey 
City from Boston at about seven o'clock," said a tele- 
graphic dispatch which I received in New York on Sun- 
day. I had left the great New England city two days 
before Irving's special train, with the understanding 
that I should join him at Jersey City, en route for 
Baltimore. 

At half-past six I was on the great steam ferry-boat 
that plies from the bottom of Desbrosses street, New 
York, to the other side of the river. A wintry wind 
was blowing up from the sea. I preferred the open air 
to the artificial heat of the cabin. In ten minutes I was 
landed at the station of the Pennsylvania Railroad. 

" Inquire for the steamer ^ Maryland,' " continued 
that dispatch which I have just quoted. " She conveys 
the train down the Harlem river to connect on the 
Pennsylvania Road." 



A WILD BAIL WAY JOURNEY. 265 

The general waiting-room of the station, or depot, as 
our American cousins call it, is a characteristic one. 
Seeing that I was allowed plenty of time to observe it, 
I propose to describe it. A large square hall, with a 
high-pitched roof, it lias more of a Continental tlian an 
English or American appearance. As you enter you 
find a number of peoj)le waiting for the trains. They 
include a few colored people and Chinamen. The 
centre of the room is filled with benches, like the stalls 
of a London theatre. You wonder why two marble 
tombs have been erected here. They turn out to be 
heat-distributers. The hot air pours out from their 
grated sides. In case you should be in danger of suf- 
focation a drinking fountain is in handy proximity to 
i\\Q blasts of heated air. The right-hand side of the hall 
is filled with booking-offices, and a clock bell tolls, in- 
dicating the times at which the various trains start. 
On the left is a cafe, and an entrance from Jersey 
City. Opposite to you as you enter from the ferry 
are two pairs of doors leading to the trains, and the 
space between the portals is filled in with a handsome 
book-stall. The door-ways here are jealously guarded 
by officials who announce the departure of trains and 
examine your tickets. One of these guards sits near 
a desk where a little library of city and State directo- 
ries is placed for the use of passengers. Each 
volume is chained to the wall, Near the cafe is a 
post-office box, and hanging hard by are the weather 
bulletins of the day. A ladies' waiting-room occupies 
a portion of the hall on the booking-office side. The 
place is lighted with electric lamps, which occasionally 



2G6 IMFBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

fiz and splutter, and once in a while go out altogether. 
Nobody pays any attention to this. Everybody is used 
to the eccentricities of the new and beautiful light. 

Obtaining permission to pass the ticket portals, I 
reach the platform, where I am to find the station- 
master. The outlook here reminds me of the high- 
level station of the Crystal Palace. A dim gas-light 
exhibits the outlines of a series of long cars, fenced in 
with gates, that are every noAv and then thrown open to 
receive batches of passengers from the waiting-room. 

The Irving train has been delayed. She is reported 
"to arrive at the Harlem river at half-past eight." In 
that case she may be here at a quarter to ten. 

I return to the spluttering electric lamps and to the 
continually coming and going multitudes of passengers. 
"No Smoking" is one of the notices on the walls. 
Two men have lighted their cigars right under it. 
They remind one of the duellists in " INIarion de Lorme," 
who fight beneath the cardinal's proclamation. The 
cafe is bright and inviting, and its chocolate is as com- 
forting as the literature of the book-stall. The novels 
of Howells and James and Braddon and Black are 
here, and the Christmas numbers of the " Illustrated 
London News " and the " Graphic " ; so likewise are the 
Christmas and New Year's cards of Marcus Ward, De 
la Rue, and Lowell. I purchase the latest novelty in 
books, "John Bull and His Island," and try to read. 
I look up now and then to see the crowd file off through 
the ticket-doors to go to Bethlehem, Catasauqua, Lans- 
down. New Market, Bloomsbury, Waverly, Linden, 
Philadelphia, West Point, Catskill, Albans, New 



A WILD RAILWAY JOURNEY. 267 

Scotland, Port Jackson, Schenectady, and other towns 
and cities, the names of which stir my thoughts into a 
strange jumble of reflections, biblical, topographical, 
and otherwise. Bethlehem and Bloomsbury ! Were 
ever cues for fancy wider apart? " Over here," I read 
in "John Bull and His Island," the writer referring to 
London, "you are not locked up in a waiting-room 
until your train comes in. You roam where you like 
about the station, and your friends may see you off and 
^ive you a hand-shake as the train leaves the platform. 
The functionary is scarcely known. There are more of 
them at the station of Fouilly les Epinards than in 
the most important station in London. You see 
placards everywhere : ^Beware of Pick-pockets' ; ^Ascer- 
tain that your change is right before leaving the book- 
ing-desk.' The Englishman does not like being taken 
in hand like a baby." Curiously the American is 
treated on the railroads very much as in France. As 
to placard-notices you see cautions against pick-pockets, 
and the London warning as to change. Some of the 
other notifications in American stations are curious : 
" No Loafing allowed in this Depot " ; " Don't Spit on the 
Floor." Douglas Jerrold's joke about the two angry 
foreigners who exclaimed, " I spit upon you ! " has more 
point here than in England ; for no apartment is sacred 
enough in this free country to keep out the spittoon, 
which, in some places, is designed in such a way as to 
indicate a strong intention to make it ornamental as 
well as useful. 

I seek the station-master again. 

" Not sooner than a quarter to eleven," he says. 



268 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA, 

" Does tlie weather obstruct the train ? '* 

"Yes, it's a queer night ; snow falling very thickly; 
makes the river journey slower than usual ; snow is as 
bad as fog." 

The entire train of eight enormous cars, containing 
the Lyceum company and their baggage, is transported 
by boat right down the Harlem river, a distance of 
several miles, the raft and train being attached to a 
tug-boat. The train is run upon the floating track 
at Harlem, and connected with the main line again at 
Jersey City. 

"I was to ask for the steamer 'Maryland.' " 

" Yes, her quay is outside the depot. I will let you 
know when she is reported. You will hear her 
whistle." 

Trying to return to the waiting-room I find I am 
locked in. Presently a good-natured official lets me 
out. In the meantime the cafe has closed, the book- 
stall has fastened its windows and put out its lights. 
The waiters on trains have thinned in numbers. Two 
poor Chinamen who have been here are talking pigeon 
English to a porter. 

"You missed it at seven," he says ; "no more train 
till twelve." 

" Twelfy ! " says John, calmly counting his fingers ; 
"no morey go tilly twelf." 

" That's so," says the porter. 

The two celestials sit down quietly to wait ; the ferry- 
boats give out their hoarse signals, and presently a 
number of other people come in, covered with snow, 
a bitter wind accompanying them, as the doors open 



A WILD BAILWAY JOURNEY. 269 

and sliut. They stamp their feet and shake the snow 
from off their garments, and you hear the jingle of sleigh- 
bells without. A farmer whose dress suggests Ma- 
thias, in ^^The Bells," comes in. He carries a bundle. 
There is a slip of green laurel in his button-hole. 
I avail myself of the supposed privilege of the country, 
and talk to him. 

"Yes," he says. "Christmas presents; I guess 
that's what I've been to New York for. I live at 
Katskill. No, not much in the way of farming. My 
father had land in Yorkshire. Guess I am an English- 
man, as one may say, though born on the Hudson. 
Did I ever hear of Rip Van Winkle at Katskill? I 
guess so. Live there now? No, sir; guess it's a 
story, aint it? But there was a sort of a hermit feller 
lived on the Hudson till a year or two ago. He was 
English. A scholar, they said, and learned. His 
grandchild, a girl, lived with him. Did nothing but 
read. Built the hut hisself. Never seen except when 
he and the girl went to buy stores. It was in the 
papers, when he died, a year or two back. Broke his 
heart, 'cause his girl skipped." 

" ^ Skipped ! ' I repeated. 

" You are fresh, sir, green ; as you say in England, 
run away, — that's skipping. I bought one of his 
books when his things were sold, because I have a 
grandchild, and know what it is. Good-night ! A 
merry Christmas to you 1 " 

No other hint of Christmas in the depot, among the 
people, or on the walls, except the cards and illus- 
trated English papers inside the book-stall windows. I 



270 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

turn to " eTohn Bull and His Jsland," and wonder if 
any English writer will respond with " Jean Crapeaud 
and His City." No country is more open to satire 
than France ; no people accept it with so little patience. 
There are some wholesome truths in Max O'Rell's 
brochure. It is good to see ourselves as others see us. 

A quarter to eleven. It is surely time to go forth 
in search of the " INIaryland." 

"Better have a guide," says a courteous official; 
** you can't find it without ; and, by thunder, how it 
snows ! See 'em ? " 

He points to several new-comers. 

" Only a few feet from the ferry, — and they're like 
walking snow-drifts . See 'em ! " 

The guide, as sturdy as a Derbyshire ploughboy, 
comes along with his lantern. 

"There are three ladies," I tell him, "in the private 
waiting-room, who are to come with us." 



n. 

I AM taking my wife and two girls to Baltimore for 
the Christmas week. Last year we had our Christmas 
dinner with Irving. This year he has said, "Let us 
all sup together. The theatres are open on Christmas 
day ; we must, therefore, have our pudding for supper 
after we have seen the last of poor old Louis." 

" Awkward night for ladies getting to the ' Mary- 
land,'" says the guide. 

They are well provided with cloaks and furs and snow- 
boots, or rubbers (an absolute necessity and a great 



A WILD RAILWAY JOURNEY. 271 

comfort in America) , and we all push along after the 
guide, across the departure platform, into the snowy 
niglit, — the flakes fall in blinding clouds ; over railway 
tracks which men are clearing, — the white carpet soft 
and yielding ; between freight-cars, through open sheds, 
— the girls enjoying it all, as only young people can 
enjoy a snow-storm. 

The flickerino^ lisrht of our o^uide's lantern is at lenod:h 
eclipsed by the radiance of a well-illuminated cabin. 

" This is the office ; you can wait here ; they'll tell 
you when the ^ Maryland's ' reported." 

A snug room, with a great stove in the centre. The 
men who are sitting around it move to make way for 
us. They do not disguise their surprise at the arrivals : 
an English family (one of them very young, with her 
hair blowing about her face), with snow enough falling 
from their cloaks to supply material for a snow-balling 
match. We are evidently regarded as novel visitors. 
Track laborers and others follow us in. They carry 
lamps, and their general appearance recalls the mining 
scene in "The Danites," at the London Olympic. 
Our entrance seems as much of a surprise to the others 
as the arrival of "the school-marm" was to the men 
in the Californian bar-room. 

Presently a smart official (not unlike a guard of the 
Midland Railway in England as to his uniform) enters. 
There is a swing in his gait and a lamp in his hand, as 
a smart writer might put it. 

" That gentleman will tell you all about the train," 
says one of the Danites, speaking in the shadow of the 
stove. 



272 IMPEESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

"The * Maryland/ " I say, 'addressing the officer; 
"I want to get on board her special train from Bos- 
ton." 

" Guess I can't help that ! I want to get some cars 
off her, that's all I know," is the response, the speaker 
eying me loftily, and then pushing his way towards a 
lookout window on the other side of the cabin. 

"Oh, thank you very much!" I say. "You are 
really too good. Is there any other gentleman here who 
is anxious to tell me where I shall find the ^ Maryland's ' 
quay, and explain how I am to get on board the 
special express, which takes a day to do a five hours' 
journey ? " 

" I'll show you," says my surly friend, turning round 
upon me and looking me all over. " I am the 
guard." 

"Thank you." 

"Here she comes ! " he exclaims. 

I forgive him, at once, his brusqueness. He, too, 
has, of course, been waiting six hours for her. 

A hoarse whistle is heard on the river. The guard 
opens the cabin-door. In rushes the snow and the 
wind. The guard's lantern casts a gleam of light on 
the white way. 

"Be careful here," he says, assisting my girls over a 
rough plank road. 

It is an open quay over which we are pushing along. 
The guard, now full of kind attention, holds up his lamp 
for us, and indicates the best paths, the snow filling our 
eyes and wetting our faces. Now we mount a gang- 
way. Then we struggle down a plank. There are 



A WILD RAILWAY JOURNEY. 273 

bustle and noise ahead of us, and the plash " of many 
waters." 

"Hatton ! " shouts the familiar voice of Bram Stoker, 
through the darkness. 

" Here we are ! " is the prompt reply. 

A stalwart figure pushes through the snow, and the 
next moment my wife is under the protection of a new 
guide. We feel our way along mazy passages, — now 
upwards, now downwards, — that might be mysterious 
corridors leading to "dungeons beneath the castle 
moat," the darkness made visible by primitive lamps. 
Presently we are on the floating raft, and thence we 
mount the steps of a railway car. 

What a change of scene it is ! — from Arctic cold 
to summer heat ; from snow and rough ways to a 
dainty parlor, with velvet-pile carpets, easy-chairs, and 
duplex lamps ; and from the Danites to Irving, Abbey, 
Loveday, and Miss Terry. They welcome us cheerily 
and with Christmas ^reetinirs. 

"Oh, don't mind the snow ; shake it off, — it will not 
hurt us ! Come, let me help you. Of course, you all 
wear snow-boots, — Arctic rubbers, eh ? That's right ; 
off with them first ! " And before we have done- shak- 
ing hands she is disrobing the girls, and helping them 
off with their wraps and shoes, — this heroine of the 
romantic and classic drama, this favorite of English 
play-goers, who is now conquering the New World 
as surely as she has conquered the Old. 

Every one in the theatrical profession knows how 
kindly and natural and human, as a rule, are, and 
have ever been, the great women of the Enirlish stasre. 



274 IMPEESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

But the outside public lias sonjetimes strange opinions 
concerning the people of this other side of the curtain, 
this world of art. Some of them would be surprised if 
they could see Ellen Terry attending upon my three 
fellow-travellers ; giving them refreshment, and, later 
on, helping to put them to bed. They would be inter- 
ested, also, to have seen her dispensing tea to the mem- 
bers of the company, or sitting chatting in their midst 
about the journey and its incidents. Just as womanly 
and tender as is her Desdemona, her Portia, her Ophe- 
lia ; so is she oiF tlie stage, — full of sympathy, touched 
to the quick by a tale of sorrow, excited to the utmost 
by a heroic story. Hers is the true artistic tempera- 
ment. She treads the path of the highest comedy as 
easily and with the same natural grace, as she manifests 
in helping these girls of mine, from New York, to re- 
move their snowy clothes , and as naturally as she sails 
through these very practical American cars to make tea 
for her brother and sister players, who love her, and 
are proud of her art. 



ni. 

Having spent an hour in vainly trying to couple 
Irving's private car with another in the centre of the 
train, the guard decides to attach it to the last one. 
In this position, which eventually proved an interesting 
one, we trundle along through Jersey City, past 
rows of shops and stores, on a level with the side- 
w^alks, the snow falling all the time. Here and there 
electric arcs are shedding weird illuminations upon the 



A WILD RAILWAY JOURNEY. 275 

unfamiliar scenes. By the lights in many of the houses 
we can see that the window-panes are coated with a 
thick frost. Now and then we stop without any appar- 
ent warning, certainly without any explanation. Dur- 
ing one of these intervals we take supper, those of us 
who have not retired to seek such repose as may be 
found in a railroad sleeping-car, — an institution which 
some American travellers prefer to a regular bedroom. 
Irving, Abbey, Stoker, Loveday, and myself, we sit 
down to a very excellent supper, — oyster-pie, cold 
beef, jelly, eggs, coffee, cigars. 

" It is too late to tell you of our adventures prior to 
your coming upon the train," says Irving. We will 
have a long chat to-morrow. Good-night ; I am going 
to try and get a little rest." 

He lies down upon a couch adjacent to the apart- 
ment in Avhich we have supped. I draw a curtain over 
him, that shuts off his bunk from the room and the 
general corridor of the car. You hear a good deal 
of talk in America about "private cars." Without 
disparaging the ingenuity and comfort of the private- 
car system of American railroad travelling let me 
say, once for all, that the term private applied to 
it in any sense is a misnomer. There is no privacy 
about it, — nothing like as much as you may have 
in an English carriage, to the sole occupancy of which 
you have bought the right for a railway journey. 
On an American train there is a conductor to each car. 
Then there are one or more guards to the train. Add 
to these officials, baggage-men, who are entitled to come 
on at various stations, and news-boys, who also appear 



276 IMPBESSIONS OF A31ERICA. 

to have special claims on the railway company ; and 
you count up quite a number of extra passengers who 
may appear in your private room fft any moment. 

It is true that the guard of your car may exclude 
some of these persons ; but, as a rule, he does not. If 
he should be so inhospitable to his fellow-man there are 
still left the conductors and guards, who have business 
all over the train at all hours. There is a passage-way, 
as you know, right through the train. On a special 
car there is a room at each end ; one is a smoking- 
room. This apartment , with or without your permission , 
is occupied by the officials of the train ; and on a cold 
night not even the most exacting traveller would think 
of objecting to the arrangement. But it is easy to see 
that this does away with all ideas of privacy. 

At 1.30 the train comes to a long stand-still. I am 
reading. The colored waiter, a negro with a face 
given over to the permanent expression of wonder, has 
taken a seat near me, in the opposite corner of the car. 
The end of the car opens right upon the line ; the door 
is half glass, so that we can see out into the night and 
away down the track. To keep the out-look clear I 
occasionally rub the frosty rime from the glass, and now 
and then open the door and clear it from snow. The 
negro contemplates me through his wide, staring eyes. 
He takes a similar interest in the guards and other 
officers of the train, who come through the cars at inter- 
vals, swinging, as they walk, lamps of singularly artistic 
patterns when compared with the English railway lan- 
terns. These guardians of the train pass out of the 
door of the room upon the line, and rarely reappear 



. A WILD RAILWAY JOURNEY. 277 

except Avlien tliey come back again right through the 
train, passing most of the would-be sleepers. Irving 
does not, however, appear to be disturbed. 

It is 2.35 when the train once more begins to move. 
For nearly an hour both the colored servant and I have, 
off and on, been watching a number of curious demon- 
strations of lights away down the line behind us. First 
a white light would appear, then a red one, then a green 
light would be flashed wildly up and down. The negro 
guesses we must be snowed up. But he doesn't know 
much of this line, he says, in a deprecatory tone ; only 
been on it once before ; doesn't take much stock in it. 
Then he shakes his woolly head mysteriously ; and what 
an air of mystery and amazement is possible on some 
dark faces of this African race ! We move ahead for five 
minutes, and then we stop again. There is a clock on 
the inlaid panel of the car over the negro's head. The 
time is steadily recorded on the dial. It is 2.45 when 
we advance once more. A hoarse whistle, like a fog- 
horn at sea, breaks upon the solemnity of the night ; 
then we pass a signal-box, and a patch of light falls 
upon our window. This is evidently the signal for 
another pause. "2.50" says the clock. The line 
behind us is now alive with lanterns. White lights 
are moving about with singular eccentricity. With 
my face close against the glass door- way I count 
six different lights. I also see dark forms moving 
about. x\ll the lights are suddenly stationary. One 
comes on towards the train. Our guard frantically 
waves his light. Presently we stop with a jerk. 
The lights we have left in the distance now gyrate with 



278 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. . 

the same inconsequential motion as the witch-fires of a 
fairy tale, or the fiends' lights in the opera of Robert 
le Diahle. Then they remain still again. I open the 
door. There is a foot of snow on the platform, and 
the feathery flakes are steadily falling. A solitary light 
comes towards us. The bearer of it gets upon the 
platform, — a solitary sentinel. The negro looks up 
at me, and asks me in a gentle kind of way, if I ever 
use sticking-plaster. "Yes," I say, *' sometimes." A 
strange question. My reply appears to be a relief to 
him. Do I ever use sticking-plaster ! There is a long 
pause outside and inside the car, as if some mysterious 
conference were going on. " Was you ever on the cars 
when they was robbed ? " the negro asks. " No," I say ; 
" I was not." — " Been on when there was shooting ? " he 
asks. "No." — "Has you ever heard of Jesse James 
and the book that was written about him?" — "Yes," 
I answer, "but never saw the book." — "Dark night, 
eh?" — "Yes, pretty dark." — "They would stop 
de train, and get a shooting right away, would dem 
James boys, I tell you ! Pei'feck terror dey was. No 
car was safe. Ise believe dey was not killed at all, 
and is only waiting for nex' chance." — " You are not 
frightened?" I say. "Well, not zactly ; but don't 
know who dis man is standing dere on de platform, 
and nebber was on any train of cars dat stopped so 
much and in such lonely places ; and don't like to be 
snowed up eider. I spoke to de brakesman about an 
hour ago ; but he don't say much." Thereupon he flat- 
tens his broad nose against the Avindow, and I take up 
" John Bull and His Island " at the description of the 



A WILD RAILWAY JOURNEY. 279 

Christmas pudding, which sets me thinking of all the 
gloomy things that may and do happen between one 
Christmas Day and another; and how once in most 
lifetimes some overwhelming calamity occurs that 
makes you feel Fate has done its worst, and can- 
not hurt you more. This thought is not ajjropos of 
the present situation ; for, of course, there is nothing to 
fear in tlie direction suggested by the negro, who has 
worked himself up into a condition of real alarm. At 
the same time the dangers of snow-drifts are not always 
confined to mere delays. The newspapers, on the day 
following our protracted journey for example, chroni- 
cled the blowing up of a locomotive, and the death of 
driver and stoker, through running into a snow-drift. 
The accident occurred not far from the scene of one of 
our longest stoppages. 

2.55. The man on the platform cries " Go ahead ! " 
and as the car moves he steps inside, literally covered 
with snow. He makes no apology, but shivers and 
shakes his coat. 

" What is wrong? " I ask. 

" Train stuck in the snow ahead of us. It is an 
awful night." 

" What were those lights in our rear ? — one in par- 
ticular." 

" That was me. I have been out there an hour and 
a half." 

" You are very cold ? " 

" Frightful." 

" Have a little brandy ? " 

"Think I'll break up if I don't." 



280 mPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

I gave him some brandy. . From the other end of 
the car comes the guard. 

"Think we'll get round her all right now?" he asks. 

"Oh, yes," says the conductor shaking his snowy 
clothes. 

The guard goes out. He, too, carries a weight of 
snow on his coat. 

Says the officer (whom I have just saved from " break- 
ing up"), "I am the conductor; but if anything went 
wrong they'd blame me, not him ; am sent on to this 
train, — a special job." 

" What were you doing out there so long ? " 

" Digging the points out of the snow, to push these 
cars on to another track, and get round ahead of the 
train that's broke down." 

" And have you done it ? " 

"Guess so." 

It is three o'clock as he steps once more upon the 
platform. At 3.5 the train stops suddenly. I look 
out into the black and white night. It still snows 
heavily. At 3.10 the conductor returns. 

" When do you think we will get to Baltimore ? " 

"At about ten." 

"What is the difficulty?" 

" Trains in front of us, trains behind us, too. You 
would be surprised at the depth of the snow. A gang 
of men clearing the track ahead." 

At 3.10 he goes out again into the w^ild night ; this 
time the snow on the platform glows red under the 
light of his lamp, which exhibits tlie danger signal. A 
distant whistle is heard. The conductor is pushing the 



A WILD RAILWAY JOURNEY. 281 

snow off the platform with his feet. He opens the 
door to tell me it is drifting in places to "any height." 
At 3.15 he says we have taken three hours to go 
twenUj miles. Looking back on the track the rails 
show a black, deep line in the snow. Not a house 
or a sign of life anywhere around us. "We are a 
heavy train, eight cars," says the conductor. The 
negro stares at us through his wide, great eyes. 
"At Railway we hope to get another engine," says 
the guard. At 3.25 we are really moving along 
steadily. " About twelve miles an hour," says the 
conductor. The negro smiles contentedly. "We 
have not met a single train since we left Jersey 
City," says the conductor; "must be trains behind 
us, — not far away, either." A signal station with 
green and red lights slips by us. The swinging 
bell of an approaching train is heard. The conductor 
stands on the platform and waves his lamp. Our 
train stops. There looms suddenly out of the dark- 
ness behind us a vast globe, white and glowing, like a 
sun. It comes on, growing larger, and accompanying 
it is the bang, bang, bang of the engine's bell, a 
familiar, but uncanny, sound in America. A number 
of minor lights dance about on either side of the ap- 
proaching monster. It does not stop until its great 
single blazing Cyclopean eye looks straight into our 
car. Then a voice says, " Don't you want some 
assistance?" The monster is a good Samaritan. "A 
freight-train," says the conductor, leaping down upon 
the line. " Yes, push us along." I follow him into 
the snow, up to my knees, and the flakes are falling in 



282 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

blinding clouds. A man is altering our signal light. 
" Are jou going to give us another engine ? " I ask. 
" More than I can say," he replies. " This buffer's no 
good ; can't push against that," says the guard of the 
other train. Then our conductor goes off with him 
into the rear. It is 3.40. I turn once more to "John 
Bull and His Island." The negro is asleep. We 
move on again, and gradually leave the locomotive 
Cyclops behind, its great, sun-like eye getting smaller. 
A few minutes more, and it follows us. We pull up at 
a switch-station. There is some difficulty with the 
posts. I go out and lend a hand at getting them clear 
of snow. Return very cold and wet. Happily the 
car is kept at a standing heat of 80° to 90°. "This 
freight-train started an hour and a half behind us," 
says the conductor. " What about the train ahead?" 
— " Just got clear of it at last, — switched us on to 
another line. Hope we'll get on now." At 3.50 we 
are really going ahead, quite at a brisk pace. Sud- 
denly another light behind us ; suddenly that ominous 
bell. It reminds me of the storm-bell off Whitby, 
that Irving and I sat listening to, one autumn night, a 
year or two ago. The conductor has passed through 
the cars. Is this new train going to run us down? 
It comes along swinging its bell. Just as the possi- 
bility of a collision seems ominous the new-comer 
veers to the left and passes us. We are evidently on 
a single line of rails, with switch-stations at intervals 
for trains to pass and repass. Our unhappy train 
stops once more. Another comes pounding along, 
with its one blazing light and its tolling bell. Passes 



A WILD RAILWAY JOURNEY. 283 

us defiantly, as the other has done. The new comer 
is, however, only an engine this time. " Assistance, 
no doubt," I say to myself. I open the door. The 
snow beats in with a rush of wind. The glass is 
covered wiih ice. All else is quiet, — everybody 
asleep in the train. The negro is dreaming ; he pulls 
ugly faces. I rub the ice off the window. The con- 
ductor is out in the snow with several lamps, searching 
for points. He is kicking at the rails with his boots. 
A man joins him, with a shovel. They work away. 
At four o'clock our train groans and screams ; it moves 
very quietly. The conductor plods back through the 
snow. We stop. At 4.5 the conductor and several 
others are digging on the line. Clearing points, no 
doubt. There are switch-lights right and left of them, 
i^ow the conductor climbs once more upon the plat- 
form, leaving a red lamp away on the track behind 
him. Another • train is heard bellowing; another bell 
following ; another great lamp gleams along the track, 
smaller red lights showing upon its white beam, over 
which the snow falls. This other locomotive comes 
right into us, its great blinding eye blazing like a 
furnace. The negro wakes up with a cry. " Ah, you 
fool !" exclaims the conductor, "what's the matter?" — 
" Got help now," he says to me, " at last ; this will 
push, and there is another one in front." The rear 
engine pants and pushes, her cow-catcher literally cov- 
ered with a snow-bank. There is a great fuss about 
coupling our car upon this panting assistant. " Is it 
only an engine, or has it cars to draw?" — "It had a 



284 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

train of cars ; we have left them on a siding. We 
shall be all right now." 

" What's going on ? " is suddenly asked in words 
and tones not unlike a voice in "The Bells," — 
"what's going on?" — "We are, I hope, soon," I 
reply to my friend, who has pushed aside his Astra- 
chan cloak and the car curtains, and is looking curiously 
at us. The negro attendant wakes up and goes 
towards him. " What is it?" — " Oh, nothing, sah ! " 
says the colored gentleman. "Only getting another 
engine," says the conductor. "What for?" asks 
Irving (he has really been to sleep) . " To check our 
speed," I say; "we have been going too fast." — "Oh, 
you astonish me ! " says Irving. " Good-night, then ! " 
The clock marks 4.30. "Good-night, indeed!" I 
reply. " So say we all of us," murmurs Loveday, 
as I pass his bunk in search of my own; "what a 
time we are having ! " 



CHRISTMAS. 285 



XIV. 

CHRISTMAS, AND AN INCIDENT BY THE WAY. 

At Baltimore — Street Scenes — Christmas "Wares — Pretty Women in 
" Rubber Cloaks " — Contrasts — Street Hawkers — Southern Blondes 
— Furs and Diamonds — Eehearsing under Difficulties — Blacks and 
Whites — Neg-ro Philosophy — Honest Work — "The Best Company 
on its Legs I have ever seen " — Our Christmas Supper — " Absent 
Friends" — Pictures in the Fire and Afterwards — An Intercepted 
Contribution to ISIagazine Literature — Correcting a Falsehood — 
Honesty and Fair Play. 

I. 

Baltimore street is the Broadway of the Monu- 
mental City. It also suggests Chestnut street in 
Philadelphia, more particularly in the matter of sign- 
boards. A city of stores and offices, it proclaims its 
various businesses in signs of every conceivable shape. 
They swing from ornamental brackets over door-ways, 
and hang right across the sidewalk. They are of many 
shapes, but as to color are invariably black and gold. 
The inscriptions u})on them are characteristic ; some of 
them are strange to the non-travelled Englishmen. I 
note a few of them : " Gent's Neck Wear," " Fine Jew- 
elry," "Men's Furnishing." This latter is the general 
sign of American hosiers and shirt-makers. " Dia- 
monds," "Fine Shoes," "Dry Goods," "Imported 
Goods," "Books," "Cheap Railroad Tickets," "Cheap 
Tickets for Chicago," "Saddlery," "Adams' Express," 
To these are added the names of the dealers. The 



286 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

" Cheap Railroad Tickets '' is ^ branch of the speculative 
operations in theatrical admissions. "Adams Express" 
is a familiar sign everywhere. It represents the great 
and universal system of baggage distribution. Adams 
and other firms will take charge of a traveller's 
luggage, or any other kind of goods, and " check " it 
through to any part of the United States, possibly to 
any corner of the world. To-day, in honor of Christ- 
mas, the ordinary signs have been supplemented by 
such attractive proclamations as "Holiday Presents," 
"Toys for the Season," "For Christmas and New 
Year's," "Home-made Christmas Puddings." At the 
doors of tobacco stores the fio-ure of a North American 
Indian, in complete war-paint, offers you a bundle of 
the finest cigars, and his tomahawk is poised for action 
in case you decline his invitation to "Try them." In 
New York this colored commercial statuary is varied 
with an occasional " Punch," and by many buxom ballet- 
girls in short dresses and chignons. But the taste of 
Baltimore, Philadelphia, Boston, and Chicago runs in 
the direction of the Indian. Nowhere do you see the 
blackamoor, once popular at the door of English tobac- 
conists ; nor, except at Brooklyn, have I seen on the 
American side of the Atlantic the kilted Highlander, 
with his "mull" as a sign for the information or 
temptation of snufF-takers. At Chicago there is a 
Scotch sculptor, Avho has ornamented the exterior of 
more than one store with life-size realizations of the 
heroes of some of Burns's most popular poems. Sev- 
eral of these are represented as snufF-takers ; but the 
collection includes a few really admirable studies. 



CHRISTMAS, 287 

The city architect, by the Wcay, at Chicago, is a Scotch- 
man, and he is responsible for the fine designs of the 
chief public buildings. Baltimore is not singular in 
its habit of pictorial signs, the origin of which may 
possibly be traced to old English custom. The 
saddler exhibits the gilded head of a horse ; the 
watchmaker hangs out a clock ; the glover a hand ; 
the dry-goods stores display bright rugs and car- 
pets. Now and then the cabinet-makers show their 
goods on the sidewalks. Many stores erect handsome 
outside glass-case stands for exhibiting knick-knacks at 
their door-ways. The fruit shops open their windows 
on the street. Itinerant dealers in oranges, bananas, 
and grapes rig up tent-like houses of business under 
the windows of established traders (for which heavy 
rents are paid, notably "down-town " in New York), 
and all this gives a pleasant variety of life and color 
to the street. One is everywhere reminded of the 
excellence of English Manufactures, "English Tanned 
Gloves," "English Storm-coats," "English Cloth"; 
and many other commercial compliments are paid to 
"Imported Goods." 

It is three o'clock in the day, and while Irving, his 
lieutenant, Loveday, and his able subalterns, Arnot 
and Allen, are getting the stage of the Academy of 
Music into some kind of shape for the Christmas-eve 
performance, I plod through the rain and slush to 
make my first acquaintance with this chief street of 
Baltimore. It is curiously picturesque, in spite of the 
weather and the dirty snow, which is melting and 
freezing almost simultaneously. Here and there the 



]\IPR^> 



288 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

sidewalks are slabs of ice ; here and there they are 
sloj)py snow-drifts. But a surging crowd covers every 
foot of them. The roadway presents a continual block 
of tram-cars, buggies, wagons, carts, and carriages. 
Women leaving and getting upon the cars plunge in 
and out of snow-heaps and watery gutters. It is a 
very democratic institution, the American car. The 
people crowd it as they please. There is no limit to 
its capacity. It may carry as many persons as can get 
into it or stand upon its platforms. This afternoon 
the cars are human hives on wheels. One notices that 
the crowd chiefly consists of women. They fill the 
sidewalks. All of them are shopping. They are all 
talking, and all at the same time. This is a peculiarity 
of our charming cousins. Their costume on this wet 
afternoon is a very sensible one. It might almost be 
called a uniform. A black water-proof cloak and hood 
is all the costume you can see. Often it is a pretty, bright 
face that the hood encases. Now and then some woman, 
a trifle more vain or reckless than her sisters, wears a hat 
and feathers with her water-proof cloak. This incongru- 
ous arrangement, however, helps to give color to the 
crowd, — a desirable point on so dull, grey, and cloudy 
a day as this. The men who move about here are mostly 
smoking. They do not appear to have any hand in 
the shopping. The ladies are evidently doing all that, 
and they are very much in earnest. Not one of them 
but deigns to carry a parcel. The cliildren are 
evidently coming in for precious gifts. In one shop 
window " Father Christmas " himself is busy showing 
his toys to a numerous audience. He is made up 



CEPdSTMAS. 289 

with white flowing locks and beard, and ruddy, though 
aged, features. His dress is an ermine tippet, 
scarlet frock trimmed with gold, and top'-boots of 
patent leather, — quite the nursery ideal of his genial 
majesty. Another store has filled its window with a 
skating scene. A company of gay dolls are slidino- 
for their very lives. They go through their lively 
work without any change of expression, and their 
gyrations never alter ; but the spectators change, and 
the store within is full of bustle. I look around for the 
poor people we would see in a London group of this 
character. I seek in vain for the Smikes and Twists 
who would be feasting their sunken eyes on such a free 
show in London. I try to find the slipshod women, 
with infants huddled to their cold bosoms. They are 
not here. A boy of twelve, with a cigarette in his 
hand, asks me for a liglit. Another " guesses " his 
" papa " will buy " the whole concern " for him if he 
wants it. No poor people. The Irish are a small com- 
munity here. How one's mind goes wandering to the 
West End of London and to the Strand and Fleet street, 
to the Seven Dials and to Ratcliffe highway, where (it 
is five hours later there than here) Christmas eve is 
being celebrated with such contrasts of fortune and 
variations of wealth and poverty, of joy and sorrow, as 
make the heart ache to think upon ! Not a single 
poor-looking person do I note in this long, busy street 
of Baltimore. Nobody begs from me : and the hawkers 
on the sidewalk offer me their wares with an air of 
almost aggressive independence. " Japanese silk, ten 
cents," one cries, with a bundle of small handkerchiefs 



290 IMFEESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

in hia hand. " The magic mouse," says another, vending 
a mechanical toy. "Now, then, one dime a packet," is 
the proposal of a third, offering material for decorating 
Christmas trees. " Try 'em ! " almost commands a fourth, 
as I pause opposite his stand of peanuts. If you buy 
nobody thanks you, and if you thank the vendor he is 
surprised, and will probably stammer out, " You're 
welcome." Yet " this is the Cavalier city," a friend 
reminds me, " and aristocratic to the core." 

The fruit-stores are bright with tropical fruits ; but 
not with the roses, carnations, pinks, and smilax creeper, 
so plentiful in New York, Boston, and Philadelphia. I 
pause to scan the faces of the crowd. It is a popular 
fiction in England that the women of the South are 
brunettes. The truth is, the further South you go, the 
fairer the women, and the more delicate their complex- 
ions. On Baltimore street I observe quite a number 
of ladies with red hair. Many of them are blondes, 
who might have been natives of Lincolnshire. They 
are all pretty ; some are beautiful ; and their charms 
certainly obtained no fictitious aid from their dress 
or surroundings. Water-proof cloaks and a muddy 
street could not help them. Baltimoreans may say I 
should look for beauty in North Charles street, or 
Mount Vernon place, if I expect to see it en prome- 
nade. But I am not looking for it. I find it in the 
great, busy, Christmas crowd, tramping through the 
snow, and buying toys and candies for the children. 
The "carriage ladies" wear furs, and those everlasting 
diamond ear-rings, without which expensive ornament 
few American women appear to consider themselves 



CHRISTMAS. 291 

"real ladies." New York and Boston modify the fjisliion 
in this respect, though you may still see women sitting 
down to breakfast at hotel restaurants in silks, satins, 
and diamonds. 

II. 

While I have been studying Baltimore street dark- 
ness has fallen upon it. The gas-lamps and the elec- 
tric arcs are beginning their nightly competition as I 
retrace my steps to the Academy of Music. Irving, 
who arrived in Baltimore at two, after a journey of 
forty-two hours, has just left the stage, I am told, — 
"gone to get a little rest." 

" Have you had a rehearsal ? " 

" Oh, yes ! " says Loveday, who is directing the last 
finishing touches to the throne-room set for " Louis XI." 
" Tight work, eh ? Got into the town at two — scenery 
to unpack — some of it is still on the train. But we 
get through it. The chief has his rehearsal somehow 
— finished half an hour ago — in two hours the curtain 
goes up. Had to do it all ourselves. Shall have to 
turn Arnot's men into Burgundians. No help to be 
had of any kind. It is Christmas, you know, and 
Christmas comes but once a year, thank goodness ! 
The chief carpenter, who is also the gas-man, 
has not turned up. Some of the other fellows are 
' Merrie-Christmasing,' also. Tried to get some addi- 
tional assistance in the way of labor. Found a few 
chaps loafing ; asked them if they wanted work. 
Said they did not mind. Offered them good wages. 
'Oh, no,' they said ; ^get niggers to do that ! ' They 



292 IMPBESSIONS OF AMEBICA. 

were above it. I acted on the^r advice. The moment 
it was dark the * colored boys,' as they call themselves, 
knocked off. Said they never worked after dark. 
'Night is the time to rest and sleep,' they said. ^For 
black men, perhaps,' I said ; ' but not for white.' 
Seemed to me as if they said, 'You had us for slaves a 
good many years ; it is our turn now.' Funny, eh? 
They wouldn't go on working. However, we shall be 
all right. It's a good thing I'm not the only Mark 
Tapley in the company, don't you know ; and the gov- 
ernor, by Jove! he stands it like, — well, like only 
Henry Irving can ! " 

Two hours later Irving is received with rapturous 
applause by a comparatively small audience. "More 
power to them!" he says, "for they have left cosey 
hearths to drive or tramp through the slush of the first 
snow of the Baltimore winter." And the company, all 
round, never played with more spirit. " It is the only 
return we can make to those who have come to see us 
on such a night," said Irving to several of them before 
the curtain went up, "to do our very best." And they 
did. Terriss was never more successful as Nemours. 
The audience was cold at first, but as the dramatic 
story unravelled itself, under the grip of the master, 
they caught the infection of its grim interest, and their 
applause rung out heartily and long. Irving developed 
the leading character with more than ordinary care, 
and was called and recalled after every act, — a triple 
call at the close including Terriss, whose manliness of 
gait and manner are peculiarly acceptable to every 
audience. 



CHRISTMAS. 293 

" There is one thing I observe about this company," 
said the Boston manager : " it walks well ; it is the best 
company on its legs I have ever seen. Our young men, 
as a rule, particularly in costume, turn out their toes 
too much, or arc knock-kneed ; all your people stand 
well on their feet, — it is a treat to see them." 

"Yes," says Irving, smiling, when this is reported to 
him. "I eno-ao^ed them to show me off. But did not 
^Emerson say that the Englishman is, of all other people, 
the man who stands firmest in his shoes? There is 
one thing to be said about our cousins on this side, 
— they do not stand still ; they are like young Rapid 
in ^4. Cure for the Heart-ache,' — always on the move. 
And when they are behind a trotting-horse how they 
go ! I am a little disappointed, so far, with the sleigh- 
ing as a matter of speed ; but the snow was too soft 
when we took our first drive at Boston. 



III. 

It is the custom in America to open the theatres on 
Christmas day. The doors of the Baltimore house 
could not have been opened in more wretched weather. 
The streets were impassable, except for carriages, or 
for pedf .rians in "Arctic rubbers," or on stilts. The 
snow was melting everywhere. Nothing had been done 
to clear the sidewalks. They were full of treacherous 
puddles, or equally treacherous snow-drifts. The Turks 
blow horns at certain periods of the year, to frighten 
away evil spirits. I know of no explanation for 
the blowing of horns at Baltimore ; but the boys 



294 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

indulge themselves in this exercise to a bewildering ex- 
tent at Christmas. Carol- singing is e\ddently not a 
custom there, nor "waits." I heard a boy shouting at 
the top of his voice the refrain of a popular ditty : — 

" In the morning, in the morning, 
When Gabriel blows his trumpet, 
In the morning." 

But I conclude that he had only adapted these 
modern words to what was evidently an old custom at 
Baltimore ; for he blew his horn vigorously at the end 
of the refrain, as if competing for supremacy with 
Gabriel himself. 

"You are right; it does not seem like Christmas," 
said Irving, as we sat down to supper, — close upon 
midnight, — a section of that same party which, a 
year previously, had gathered about the round table 
in the host's Beefsteak Club room at the Lyceum 
Theatre. 

"It seems so strange," said Ellen Terry, "to play on 
Christmas Day ; that, to me, makes the time wholly un- 
like Christmas. On the other hand, there is the snow, 
and we shall have an English Christmas pudding, — I 
brought it from home, and my mother made it." 

" AVell done ; bless her heart ! " said Irving ; " but I 
have played before on Christmas Day. They open the 
theatres in Scotland on Christmas Day. They don't pay 
much attention, I am told, to church festivals in Bos- 
ton and New England ; but one would have expected 
it in the South, where they are observing the social 
character of Christmas, I learn, more and more every 



CEBISTMAS. 295 

year ; and not alone to the snow, but to that fact, I am 
told, we are to attribute the small houses we had last 
nio'ht and to-nio^ht." 

" Small for America and for us," chimed in Loveday ; 
" but what we should, after our experience, call bad 
business here would be very good in England." 

"Yes, that's true," said Irving; "but here's holly 
and mistletoe, — where did they come from?" 

He Avas looking at a very English decoration that 
swung from the chandelier. 

" From London, with the pudding," said Miss Terry. 

The colored attendants took great interest in our cele- 
bration of the festival. If they could have put their 
thoughts into words they would probably have expressed 
surprise that artists of whom they had heard so much 
could entertain each other in so simple a fashion. 

When the pudding came on the table it was not 
lighted. 

" Who has had charge of this affair? " Irving asked, 
looking slyly at everybody but Stoker. 

" I have," said the usual delinquent. 

"That accounts for it," said Irving. "Who ever 
heard of a Christmas pudding without a blaze, ex- 
cepts perhaps, in Ireland? " 

" Oh, we'll soon light it up ! " said Stoker. " Waiter, 
bring some brandy ! " 

Presently the pudding flamed up, to the delight of 
the African gentlemen who served it. 

"I fear there is no sauce," said one of the ladies. 

" No sauce ! Christmas pudding and no sauce ! " I 
exclaimed. " Here's stage management ! " 



296 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

" Sauce ! " said Stoker, — "*to plum pudding? " 

"Yes, always in England," said Loveday. 

This kind of mild banter was checked by Irving fill- 
ing his glass with champagne, and observing, "After 
the experience of last year, of course we ought not to 
have entrusted Stoker with the pudding. However, 
let us make the best of it. It seems a very good pud- 
ding, after all. I want you all to fill your glasses. 
Let us wish each other in the old way, ^A merry 
Christmas and A happy New Year,' and ^ God bless 
our absent friends ! ' " 

Some of us gulped the wine a little spasmodically, 
and some of us found it hard to keep back our tears. 
"Who can pledge that familiar toast, and not think of 
the empty chairs that seem so very, very empty at 
Christmas ! 

When the women and my girls had been escorted to 
their carriages, and sent home to their hotel, with 
flowers and bon-bons on their laps, we three men of 
the little party sat round the fire and talked of old 
times. Irving had ordered the biggest logs the hotel's 
wood-yard afforded to be heaped into the grate. The 
fire cracked and spluttered and blazed, and had in the 
lower bars of the grate a solid, steady glow of white 
ash that was truly English ; and I think we each 
looked into it for a time, busy with our own individual 
thoughts and reflections. Presently, under the more 
cheerful influences of the season, we talked of many 
things, and finally drifted into "shop." The chief 
subject was started by Irving himself, and it dealt with 
the novel treatment of the next Shakespeare play which 



CHRISTMAS. 297 

he intends to produce at the Lyceum. Irving looked 
into the fire and saw it there, scene by scene, act by 
act. As he saw it, he described it. 

It was in the glamour of his rosiest pictures that I 
said good-night, to have the witchery of the fire-light 
dispelled by the outer bitterness of the weather, 
and the lonely, desolate appearance of the city. 
The streets were now as hard as they had been 
soft ; the pools were ice, the snow adamant ; and 
icicles hung down from the eaves of every house. The 
roadways glistened in the lamp-light. Not a soul was 
abroad. It might have been a city of the dead. A 
strain of Christmas music would have redeemed the 
situation. Even a London "waits" band at its worst, 
such as one awakens to with a growl on cold nights at 
home, would have been a God-send. Not a sound ; 
not a footstep ; no distant jangle of car-bells ; not 
even a policeman ; only the winter night itself, with 
a few chilly-looking stars above, and the cold, hard, 
icy streets below. 



IT. 

It is a long way from Baltimore to Brooklyn, — five 
or six hundred miles, — still from Brooklyn to Chicago 
is over a thousand ; yet these were the journeys that 
followed each other. The company, as you already 
know, travelled from Boston to Baltimore, close upon 
a thousand miles ; from Baltimore it went to Brooklyn ; 
and from the city of churches its next trip was to the 
great city on Lake Michigan. But, not to get ahead 



298 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

of events, we will pause at Brooklyn ^ : first, to say that 
the theatre was crowded there 'all the week ; secondly, 
for Irving to relate an incident by the way ; and, thn-dly, 
to introduce the succeeding chapter, which will describe 
our departure therefrom. 

Irving was a little ruffled during his journey from 
Baltimore by the sting of one of those vagrant gad- 
flies of the press that are not confined to the American 
continent ; but, as a matter of course, exist in that 
broader field in large numbers, and are of greater 
variety than in the narrower limits of Great Britain. 

"I promised to write a little gossip of my expe- 
riences in America for the magazine, and I 

think the Baltimore incident is a very good subject, 
told as an episode of the trip, with just a few lines about 
my reception. What do you think?" 

1 A very large deleg'ation of the members of the Hamilton Club received 
Mr. Henry Irving in the rooms of the club last night, after the close of the 
performance at Ilaverly's. The honors of the club were done by its Presi- 
dent, Mr. Samuel McLean, and Mr. Irving was introduced by him to the 
members present. Among those who attended to do honor to the great 
actor were the Rev. Dr. Putman, the Rev. C. Cuthbert Hall, tbe Rev. 
Harry Lacy, Judge Van Cott, Henry E. Pierrepont, H. E. Sanger, S. B. 
Duiyea, Dr. Kissam, Howard Van Sinderen, J. S. T. Sti-anahan, Gordon 
L. Ford, Professor West, Alfred C. Barnes, Dr. INIcCorkle, E. A. Packard, 
Amos Bobbins, J. Spencer Turner, Alex. Cameron, Edward Barr, Colonel 
Partridge, John Notman, J. S. Xoyes, II. E. Ide, Clinton Tucker, Ernest 
Jackson, Raymond Jenkins, F. Abbott Ingalls, W. T. Lawrence, Frank 
nines, Arnold Hastings, Gus. Recknagel, A. Van Sinderen, Joseph You- 
mans, II. E. Dodge, Dr. Burge, Robert Ogden, Leander Waterbury, Wm. 
Sanger, Dr. Colton, John King, II. D. Atwater, and John Foord. The 
reception was arranged for at twenty -four hours' notice, Mr. Irving's ability 
to attend not being known to most of the members of the club before yes- 
terday morning. ISIr. Irving, who Avas accompanied by his stage-manager, 
Mr. Loveday, and by Mr. Joseph Ilatton, expressed himself as extremely 
gratified by the cordiality of his reception. — Brooklyn Union, Jan. 4, ISSJ. 



CHRISTMAS. 299 

"Yery good, indeed," I said. 

"Ah ! I'm glad you like the notion, because I have 
written it. Here it is ; I'll read it to you." 

" The Baltimore man will feel flattered when he learns 
how much you have taken his ' Tribune ' despatch to 
heart," I said. 

" I don't care for that at all ; nor would I, as you 
know, have thought of answering him, only that he 
put his falsehood into so ingeniously damaging a shape. 
But no matter, — this is what I have written. 



" The Sunday newspapers of America are the largest 
and certainly the most amusing of the week. They 
were especially welcome to me during the railway jour- 
ney between Baltimore and Brooklyn. The landscape 
was striking now and then ; but we were travelling lit- 
erally through a snow world, and the monotony of it 
was a trifle tedious. 

" I turned to the New York papers, a bundle of which 
had been brought ^ on board ' (this term is applied to 
railway trains as to ships in America) , and was not 
long in coming upon a surprise. It was in the shape 
of a special telegraphic despatch from Baltimore to 
the 'Tribune,' of December 30. I read that 'Henry 
Irving closed a very successful week at the Academy 
of Music ' ; that his ' audiences were large ' ; that ' his 
success was due to curiosity ' ; that ' " Hamlet " raised 
a storm of criticism about his new-fangled ideas, and 
when the ghost appeared on the stage in a green gown 
the audience roared at the strange sight, to the evi- 



300 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

dent embarrassment of the ghost ' ; that ' individuallj, 
however, Henry Irving's sfay in Baltimore was of 
the pleasantest nature'; and that 'Dr. W. Crim/ the 
well-known surgeon, gave him a reception, where he 
proved himself an entertaining conversationalist. He 
was favorably impressed with Americans, but said they 
were not yet fully educated to appreciate true artistic 
ability ; they were progressing.' 

1 A reception was given to Mr. Henry Ii-ving, the distinguished Enghsh 
actor, by Dr. \Ym. 11. Crim, at his residence, 185 W. Fayette street, last 
evening. At the close of the perfofmance at the Academy, Mr. Irving, 
accompanied by his stage-manager, H. J. Loveday ; acting manager, Bram 
Stoker; J. II. Copleston, and James H. Plaser, representing JSIanager 
Abbey, of New York, and Mr. Josepli Hatton, the English author, drove 
to Dr. Crim's residence, where they were received by the host, and 
presented to a number of journahsts, representing the city press, and other 
gentlemen. Among those present were Messrs. John W. McCoy, Wm. T. 
Croasdale, John V. Hood, Innes Randolph, Harry J. Ford, Henry D. 
Beall, C. M. Fairbanks, E. N. Vallandigham, Frederick L. Holmes, Prof. 
Charles G. Edwards, Samuel W. Fort, Manager of the Academy ; Harry 
P. Wilson, Harry F. Powell, Harry J. Conway, Charles F. INIcany, John 
W. Albaugh, of Holliday-street Theatre ; Chas. Reynolds and W. I. Cook. 
The affair was wholly informal, but was apparently all the more agreeable 
on that account. Mr. Irving, upon being presented, expressed his gratifi- 
cation at meeting the representatives of the Baltimore press, and during 
the evening manifiested the utmost cordiality of manner. He is a delightful 
conversationalist, and for a couple of hours entertained groups of attentive 
listeners. His impressions of Baltimore, as far as he had seen, were veiy 
favorable, and he was much pleased Avith the audiences that had greeted 
him during the week at the Academy. Speaking of the Academy, he 
rcmai-ked that its acoustic properties — a rare quality in a theatre of that 
size — were among the very best he had ever known. About midnight the 
visitors repaired to the dining-room, where a tempting repast, with choice 
wines, was enjoyed. Adjourning thence to the library, the guests indulged 
in a fragrant Havana, and another hour slipped by almost unconsciously in 
pleasant social intercourse. During the evening Mr. Irving appeared much 
interested in the rare collection of antiques, art-works, bric-a-brac, and 
articles of virtu that adorn the parlor and library of the genial host, and in 
the collection of which he has spent much time and labor. — The Day 
(^Baltimore), Dec. 28, 1883. 



CHRISTMAS. 301 

"As I had never remembered the closet scene in 
'Hamlet' to have been more impressive, and particu- 
larly as regarded the appearance of the ghost ; as the 
question of curiosity, per se, had never been raised by 
the local press ; as on our first two nights we had bad 
houses, and on our last two the theatre was crowded ; 
as the remark attributed to me at Dr. Crim's was a 
false report, calculated to injure me in the eyes of the 
American people, — this newspaper despatch, I confess, 
annoyed me. 

" I consulted my friends on the train as to the advisa- 
bility of contradicting the latter part of it. 

"The general verdict was against me. Said an 
American journalistic friend, 'If you get into a con- 
troversy of that kind, it will be never-ending.' 

" ' But it is not a question for controversy ; it is a 
question of fact. If this man's statement is allowed to 
go forth, I simply stand before the American people as 
a downright prig.' 

" ' If you take the trouble to contradict every mis- 
representation of what you say and do you will have 
no other occupation.' 

" ' So far this is the only thing I have cared to contra- 
dict ; for I think the press, as a rule, has been generous 
to me, and to all of us. As for the point about the 
" ghost," that does not matter ; it is a lie, and, even if it 
be malicious, it will be corrected wherever we play 
"Hamlet." It is true, our friend of the "Standard" 
may publish it ; but truth will prevail even against 
his curiously persistent misrepresentations.' 

"'Oh, but,' said my adviser, and he was backed by 



302 IMPEESSIONS OF AMEBICA. 

others, * the London "Standard" will not repeat such 
obvious nonsense, and the American people will not 
believe a mere Baltimore correspondent. Take no 
notice of it.' 

" Thus the matter rested until the close of the journey. 
I hope I endure criticism with becoming fortitude, 
but a wilful and malicious falsehood reflecting upon my 
personal conduct frets me. I tliercfore resolved to 
send the followins: letter to the editor of the ^ Tribune ' 
(who had devoted much valuable space to my work, and 
whose personal courtesy I shall always remember) : — 

" ' Sir, — I value so highly the good opinion of the American 
people that it is painful to me to see any estimate of their edu- 
cation and culture misrepresented. In your journal of to-day 
a Baltimore despatch states that I have said : " The Americans 
are not yet fully educated to appreciate true artistic ability ; 
they are progressing." This statement is utterly untrue ; and, 
while I take this opportunity to contradict it, I feel sure that 
America by this time knows me sufficiently well to believe that 
1 am incapable of uttering such conceited nonsense, or of the 
bad taste and ingratitude which the correspondent desires to 
tix upon me. 

*' ' Faithfully yours, 

'"HENRY IRYING.' 

"Sometimes instinct is one's best guide in dealing 
with mere personal matters. The invidious character of 
the newspaper report in this case is apparent, and my 
letter was, in many directions, referred to as a well- 
advised and necessary rejoinder to a calumny. The 
'Tribune' mentioned it in the following terms, a day or 
two afterwards : — 



CHRISTMAS. 303 

** ♦ Mr. Irving\s recent card in the "Tribune,'" concerning the 
absurd charge that he had disparaged American audiences, was 
graceful and manly. An imputation of invidious remarks to 
those i)ersons who are prosperous in the public esteem is one 
of the commonest metliods of malicious detraction. It has 
been used, of course, against Mr. Irving, who is altogether too 
fortunate a man for envy and malice to endure. An old re- 
mark, made by the poet Samuel Rogers, applies to this case: 
''To succeed is no little crime in the eyes of those who fail; 
and those who cannot climb will endeavor to pull you down by 
the skirts." ' 

"The 'absurd clmrge' was not too absurd, I learned 
later, for it appeared in the cable correspondence of the 
^Standard.' You ask me for a few notes on my work 
in this great country. I hope you may consider this 
personal matter of sufficient interest. From the first 
I have been received witli unbounded kindness ; 
from the first I have played to large and enthusiastic 
audiences. ]\Iy most sanguine hopes never reached 
so high as the success I have realized. Here and 
there, prompted, possibly, by the preliminarj appeal 
of the ^ Standard ' to the American people * not to 
nail my ears to the pump' (as the 'Herald' put it 
in commenting upon the article), and, encouraged 
by a parchment pamphlet circulated here, some few 
pressmen, of the Baltimore stamp, have had their 
malicious fling at me ; but I have reason to be 
deeply grateful to the American critics and to the 
American people for judging me and my work in a 
spirit of honesty and fair play. The study of a life- 
time, and the conscientious working out of my own 
convictions in regard to the representation of stage 



304 IMPBESSIONS OF AMEllICA. 

stories in a natural manner, Jiave been stamped with 
the approval of the American people ; and I shall 
return to my native land very proud of their artistic 
endorsement and their personal friendship. 

"HENRY mVING. 

" There ! What do you think of it ? " 

"It is excellent," I said, "and most interesting; but 
I would rather see it in ' Henry Irving's Impressions of 
America ' than in the " 

And here it is accordingly, an intercepted contribu- 
tion to an English magazine. 

" I thought,' he said, "the editor would publish it 
as a 'P.S.,' after the manner of other contributions 
about the stage." 

"No doubt," I replied; 'but I think we will sand- 
wich it between our chapters on Baltimore and the trip 
to Chicago." 



FROM BROOKLYN TO CHIC AGO. 305 



XV. 

FROM BROOKLYN TO CHICAGO. 

** Fussy" — The Brooklyn Feriy — Crossing the North Eiver — A Pict- 
uresque Crowd — Brooklyn Bridge at Night — Warned against Chicago 
— Conservatism of American Critics — Dangers of the Road — Railway- 
Train Bandits — An Early Interviewer — A Reporter's Story — Life on 
a Private Car — Miss Teny and her " Luck " — American "Women. 

I. 

The clocks are hammering out the midnight hour 
on Saturday, January 5th, as several carriages dash 
over the snowy streets of Brooklyn, one of them made 
more conspicuous than the rest by the antics of an 
attendant dog. It is a black and white fox terrier, 
with a suggestion of the lurcher in its pedigree. Busy 
with many tram-cars and a variety of other traffic, 
the streets are bright with gas and electric lamps. 
"Fussy" is quite a foreigner in Brooklyn; carriage, 
horses, and driver are strange to him. One looks out 
to see the sagacious animal leaping along through the 
crowd, never heeding the calls of boys and men, now 
making short cuts to head the vehicle, and now dropping 
behind. 

"You will lose him one day," I say to Fussy's owner, 
by way of warning. 

" Oh, no ! " says Miss Terry. " He folloAvs my car- 
riage everywhere, day or night, going to the theatre or 
leaving it, strange town or otherwise. I have a small 



306 niPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

picee of carpet for liim to lie upon in my dressing-room. 
Sometimes, just as we are leaving for the theatre, my 
maid pretends to forget it. But Fussy will dart back 
to my room and brins; it, drao-o-inqf it downstairs into 
the street, and only dropping it by tlie carriage-door. 
One day, at New York, he leaped into the hotel elevator 
with it, and out again on the ground floor, as if he had 
been accustomed to elevators all his life." 

We are three, — Miss Terry, Irving, and myself. 
We are making our way to the Brooklyn ferry. The 
boat belonging to the Pennsylvania Railroad is waiting 
to convey us across the North river to the Desbrosses- 
street depot of that well-known corporation. " Fussy " is 
there as soon as we are, and poor '' Charlie," who is get- 
ting blind, has to be carried aboard . Nearly all the mem- 
bers of the company are here already. They are a pict- 
uresque group in the somewhat uncertain light of dis- 
tant lamps, and a world of stars sparkling in a frosty sky 
that seems further away from the earth than our English 
firmament. Mr. Terriss looks like a dashing Capt. 
Hawksley on his travels, — fur coat, cap, self-possessed 
air, and all. Mr. Tyars wears a " Tam O'Shanter" 
and ulster. He might be tlie laird of a Scotch county, 
just come down from the hills. The grey-haired, pale- 
faced gentleman, mufiled to the eyes in fur cap and 
comforter, is Mr. Mead, whose imperial stride as "the 
buried majesty of Denmark" is repeated here in re- 
sponse to the call of a friend in the cabin. Mr. 
Howe carries his years and experience with an elastic 
gait, and a fresh, pleasant face. He is a notable figure 
in the group, dressed in every respect like an English 



FROM BROOKLYN TO CHICAGO. 307 

gentleman, — overcoat, hat, gloves. He has a breezy 
country manner, and, if one did not know him, one 
might say, " This is a Yorkshire man, who farms his own 
land, going to the West to have a look at Kansas, and 
perhaps at Manitoba." Mr. Ball, the musical conductor, 
wears his fur collar and spectacles with quite a profes- 
sional air. Norman Forbes brings with him ideas 
of Bond street, and Bobertson, who sings " Hey, 
Nonnie," to the swells in Leonato's garden, is 
wrapped up as a tenor should be, though he has the 
carriao'C of an athlete. The American winter 

o 

lends itself to artistic considerations in the matter of 
cloaks, coats, leggins, scarfs, and "head-gear." The 
ladies of the company have sought the hot shelter of 
the spacious saloon. Miss Terry pushes the swinging- 
door. 

"I shall be stifled in there," she says, retreating be- 
fore a blast of hot air. 

" And starved to death out here," says Irving. 

" Well, I prefer the latter," she replies, taking her 
place among the crowd on the outer platform. 

" Our English friends would complain of heat at tlie 
North pole," says an American gentleman to another, 
as they push their way into the saloon. 

It is an impressive sight, this great, rolling flood of 
the North river at midnight. The reflection of the 
boat's lights upon the tide give it an oily appearance. 

" Looks harmless enough, eh? " remarks an American 
friend, answering his own question ; " but it aint. 
The strongest swimmer might fail in breasting the 
current at this state of the tide." 



308 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Bright electric lamps mark out the graceful lines of 
the Brooklyn bridge. The twinkling signals of river 
craft are seen afar off beneath the span of the suspended 
roadway, along which gay-looking cars are flashing 
their white and red and green lights. We pass and 
meet gigantic ferry-boats, as large as the Terrace at 
Harley-on-Thames would be if converted into a house- 
boat, but a thousand times brighter, with tier upon 
tier of illuminated windows, Irving, in his great 
Astrachan overcoat, contemplates the scene with deep 
interest. 

"It is, indeed, very wonderful," he says. "We 
could give an idea of the bridge at night on the Lyceum 
stage ; but these ferry-boats would bother us, eh, 
Loveday ? " 

"Not more than they do now with their heat and 
cold. Don't you think Miss Terry ought to go inside? 
It is very bitter here." 

" No, I'll die first ! " says the lady, amidst a general 
laugh. 

II. 

Peesently we run into dock, and are as firmly part 
of it as if the two structures were one, and so we land 
and struggle along in groups to the platform, where 
our special train is to start for Chicago, a run of one 
thousand miles. Mr. Carpenter, the traffic manager 
of this road, is here to receive us. He and Mr. Abbey 
exchange some not unpleasant badinage about the 
tribulations of our previous journey from Boston to 
Baltimore, and we get aboard. Mr. Blanchard, the 



FROM BROOKLYN TO CHICAGO. 309 

president of the Eric Railroad, has lent Mr. Irving 
his own parlor-car for the journey, although it is nec- 
essary that the company shall travel over the Penn- 
sylvania road. He has provisioned it also. It contains 
a private room for Miss Terry, a special room for 
Irving, and sections for myself and other friends. 
There is also a smoking-room and little parlor, besides, 
of course, a well-appointed kitchen. Mr. Blanchard's 
own cJief is in the car, with a couple of servants ; 
they are colored gentlemen, and very attentive to our 
wants. Miss Terry and her maid go straight to bed ; 
so likewise do the other occupants of the car, except 
Irving and myself. We think there may be much rest 
for mind and body in a quiet chat before turning in for 
the night. 

" Besides," says Irving, lighting a cigar, " we may 
not be in the humor for such recreation after Monday 
night. I am to get it hot in Chicago, they tell me." 

*'I believe you will find the gate of the West wide 
open to receive you, and the people of Chicago quick 
to recognize all that is good in your work, and not a 
whit behind the other cities in its appreciation of it." 

*'They can have no prejudices, at all events," he re- 
plied ; "there has been no time for tradition to take root 
there. They will not be afraid to say what tliey think, 
one way or the other. I would not feel anxious at all 
if we had to stay there a month instead of a fortnight." 

" I should not wonder if reporters meet the train and 
ask for interviews lonor before we arrive at Chica2:o." 

" Is it possible ? Well, let them come. I am told that 
if we should be snowed up, there are much worse per- 



310 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

sons to fear than our friends, 'the reporters. Mr. Abbey 
carries pistols, and the conductors and guards are 
armed. During the Bernhardt tour more than one 
plot to stop Abbey's special trains v/as discovered. 
A band of masked men were disappointed at one place, 
and a company of desperadoes from a western camp at 
another. One of Abbey's agents was attacked in his 
sleeping-car, and badly wounded, by men who sneaked 
on board during a stoppage near a signal station ; but he 
made a good fight, and the guard coming quickly to his 
aid, the fellows got oiF. Travelling as we did, even from 
Boston to Baltimore, pulling up at lonely and unpeo- 
pled points, one can understand how easily a gang of 
reckless robbers might capture a train, the facilities for 
o^ettino; aboard and walkini]^ rio'ht throuG^h the cars beins^ 
largely in favor of success. It was known, Mr. Abbey 
tells me, that Madame Bernhardt carried her diamonds 
about with her ; and, acting on reliable information, he 
found it desu-able to have a smart chief of police on the 
train, who had each end of her car protected at night by 
an armed guard. No such honor is, I suppose, provided 
for us ; and then we do not go so far West, nor so 
near the frontiers, as she and her company went. I 
suppose Abbey is not chaffing us, as Raymond and those 
other fellows tried to do in London ? " ^ 

1 The colored gentleman who asked me, during the " wild railway 
journey" of a previous chapter, if I used "sticking plaster," referred to 
the exploits of the James hoys. Their murderous adventures, I find, cover 
a period of over twency j'cars, hcgiuning, some people allege, with a sort 
of guerilla warfare daring the Avar. A reward was offered a few years ago 
for the capture of the leader, Jesse James, dead or alive, and he Avas 
treacherously murdered by one of his confederates, who, being tried and 
sentenced to death, was i-eprieved and rewarded in accordance with the 



FRO:,I BROOKLYN TO CHICAGO. gH 

" Oh, no ; Abbey's is a true bill. In the West a 
detective well known to the thieves sat by Madame Bern- 
hardt's coachman whenever she went out, to or from 
the theatre, or anywhere else ; and, apart from the 
weapons he carried, his courage and skill made him a 
terror to evil-doers. The western bandit is singularly 
discreet v»dien he knows the reputation of the police is 
pledged against him in a public enterprise. 

State proclamation. He and several other members of the gang are 
still occasionallj before the courts, I believe, on various charges; some 
appealing to the superior power of the law, others working out their various 
sentences, and some of them free. One of their most daring adventures 
is a tragedy that is not likely to be forgotten in the criminal history of 
America. The story is to railway travel, so far as the mere robbery 
itself is concerned, what the robbery of " The Lyons Mail" is to the his- 
tory of posting in France and England a century ago. It is a truly dra- 
matic story, in two acts. The first scene discovers the postmaster and two 
or three friends of the village of Glendale, at a flag station on the Kansas City 
branch of the Chicago & Alton Railway. It is a pleasant October evening. 
Suddenly they are made prisoners by a band of twelve masked and heavily- 
armed men. They are marched to the little railway station, where the 
telegraph-operator, an old woman, and the railway auditor, are added to 
ihe number. They comprise the entire population of the very picturesque 
and romantic station. The telegraphic instrument is destroyed, and the 
station-master compelled to lower his signal lights and stop the mail then 
due. This ends the first act. The second is the arrival of the traiu, the 
sudden and expert seizure of engine-driver and guard (the latter battered 
almost to death with the but-end of a pistol) , the overawing of the passen- 
gers with revolvers, and the plunder of the mails. Horses are then brought 
up to the track, the men mount with their booty, and order the train to 
proceed. As the cars move away, the rol)ber3 write a despatch that the 
telegraph -operator is directed to send off as soon as his instrument is in 
order : — " Vv''e are the boys who are hard to handle, and we will make it 
hot for the boys who try to take us. Signed, Jesse and Frank James, 
Jack Bishop, Irwin Cohens, Cool Carter," etc. The plunder was thu-ty 
thousand dollars in gold. 



312 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA 



III. 

The Chicago press justified my forecast of its enter- 
prise. The story of one of its representatives (he was 
a baron, by the way, in his German Fatherland, though 
content to be a reporter in Chicago) is best told in his 
own way. He begins it with rather a series of " catch- 
ing " titles, thus : — 

A Chat with Mr. Irving. 

A Daily Neivs Reporter climbs into the English Tragedian's 
Special Train, and Interviews him. 

Miss Ellen Terry thinks her Ajmerican Sisters "Very 
nice," but she has not yet seen Daisy Miller. 

Then he goes on to narrate his own adventures, and 
the results, and without much exaggeration, almost 
as follows : — 

" Mr. Henry Irving, the notable English actor, is in 
Chicago now, and so is the * Daily News ' man, who 
accompanied him part of the way. The manner in 
which these two — the great representative of the British 
stage and its latest and finest fruition, and the modest 
representative of the ^ Daily News ' — met was quite 
peculiar ; and it may be amusing to a discerning public 
to, for once, learn that the interviewer's path is not 
always strewn with roses when he sets out upon his 
way past the thorny hedges that beset his road. Who 
doesn't pity him in his various plights, and concede that 
naught but the reputation of Chicago for having the 



FROM BROOKLYN TO CHICAGO. 31.3 

pluckiest and most irrepressible reporters did not make 
liim wilt long before accomplishing his task, must bear 
a stone in his bosom, instead of the usual muscular 
fibre called a human heart. 

" It is well known to the newspaper fraternity that 
Mr. Irving holds the interviewer in dread, and that 
nearly all the so-called interviews with him published 
in the American papers have been spurious. Duly 
appreciating this fact, the ^ Daily News' man had not 
only been munificently fitted out with the requisite lucre 
by the business department, but had furthermore been 
furnished with a letter of introduction, — one of the 
combination sort, — addressed to both Mr. Copleston, 
Manager Abbey's representative, and to Mr. Falser,^ 
couched in terms to make the flintiest heart melt. Thus 
attired, then, the emissary boarded at Fort Wayne the 
train which had carried safely thus far Cassar and his luck 
from Jersey City. Entry to the cars was eifected with 
difficulty, the rules proscribing any but the theatrical 
company for wdiom the train was chartered from rid in o- 
in it. Ferseverance and gall in equal doses prevailed, 
however, as they usually do, and the drowsy Senescam- 
bian, who was doing the Cerberus act, at the entrance 
of the car, yielded to an amount of eloquence perhaps 
never before brought to bear upon his pachydermatous 
anatomy. As soon as the train had started, a still-hunt 
was begun for the two prospective victims, Miss Terry 
and Mr. Irving. Alas ! they had both obeyed nature's 
call, and were at that moment sweetly slumbering 
oblivious even of the Chicago interviewer. Everybody 

^ ;RIr. Abbey's excellent business manager and treasurer. 



314 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

else was likewise sleeping, ev-en unto the dusky porters. 
Passing up and down the train from end to end, 
nothina- but the cheerful and melodious British snore 
greeted the attentive ear. Here, to the right, it was 
the wheezing note of a snore combined with a cold ; 
there, it was the thundering roll of a snoro basso pro- 
fitndo ; across the aisle the gentler breathing of some 
youthful British blonde, struck the expectant senses, and 
again a confused jumble of snores, of all sexes and ages, 
would fall ' with a dull thud ' upon the tympanum of 
the investigator. It forced itself upon the lattcr's con- 
viction that it would be a difficult matter to attain the 
object for which he had been deputed. It was then 
after three o'clock. The train was due in Chicago 
at eight, and it looked very unlikely that Mr. Irving 
would overcome his aversion to interviewing and grant 
audience to a stranger at such a time. This was a hiatus 
which had not been thought of, and the ' Daily News ' 
man sat down in an abandoned chair (on which were 
peacefully reclining some articles of feminine attire) , and 
reflected. Keflecting, he caught himself in a nap, and 
woke out of it with a slight shudder. He gave him- 
self a poke in the rib and muttered, in grave-like 
accents : ^Nil desperandum.^ 

" The next move in the direction of the desired inter- 
view was a vigorous rap administered to the saddle- 
colored individual who in that car discharged the duties 
of collecting ' 50 cents all 'round.' When the kicked 
one had gathered up his portly limbs he was sent on a 
search for Mr. Falser first, and, that proving unavail- 
ing, on a hunt for Mr. Copleston. The latter, after 



FBOM BBOOKLYN TO CHICAGO. 315 

coiisiderable energy had been expended by the colored 
brother, awoke and gave vent to his Indignation at 
having been thus rudely snatched from Morpheus's 
arms. He did so in rather vigorous style and language, 
which, under the circumstances, was hardly to be won- 
dered at. He declined to come forth from under his 
blankets, and not even the cutting repartee of the re- 
porter could rouse him. He said he had been but an 
hour and a half asleep, lie and some friends in another car 
having played poker till very late, and he, the speaker, 
having lost quite heavily. He wouldn't, couldn't, 
shouldn't get up and wake Mr. Irving, and an inter- 
view, he concluded, on the train was an impossibility. 
"'Here is a fix,' was the mental commentary. 
Poking his hand In here and there into berths, and belns: 
startled now by the apparition of a female face, then 
by a powerful snort of defiance from some male actor, 
the investigator finally groped his way back Into the 
rear car, one of the palace pattern, placed at Mr. 
Irving's disposal by Mr. Blanchard of the Erie road. 
And there he found, at last, Mr. Irving, who, being 
duly apprised of the mission of his unwelcome visitor, 
and having a bit of pasteboard with the latter's ad- 
dress thrust into his unwilling palm, murmured plain- 
tively, but politely, that he would see him before reach- 
ing Chicago. Later on, Mr. Abbey's services were 
enlisted in the same cause, and his promise to the same 
effect obtained. Wearily the time dragged on, till but 
another twenty-five miles lay between the train and Its 
destination. Just at this opportune moment the great 
actor's friend, jMr. Joseph Hatton, stepped up and in- 



316 niPBES SIGNS OF AMEBIC A. 

vited the hungry, wild, and xlesperate minion of the 
press to partake of a cup of coffee. Gladly this was 
accepted, and, being made aware of what was wanted, 
he, with the sympathizing spirit of a brother journalist, 
said he would try and have Mr. Irving appear. Mr. 
Hatton, by the way, is the famous London correspond- 
ent of the ^New York Times,' and is accompanying 
Mr. Irving for the purpose of gathering material for a 
book, in which jointly the impressions of American 
travel of himself and the eminent actor will be depos- 
ited. While he went off to wake Mr. Ir^ ing, another 
trip was taken to Mr. Abbey's room, in doing which, 
both coming and returning, the reporter's modesty 
underwent the severe ordeal of passing in review a 
large array of British beauties, all in different stages of 
evolution — as to dress — and all talking sauce in 
choice Cockney English at him for his 'shocking 
impropriety.' When the somewhat cowed Daily 
Newsian returned to his cup of coffee he found 
not only Mr. Copleston, the surly bear of a few hours 
ago, transformed into a most amiable gentleman, 
but also among the other gentlemen, Mr. Irving 
himself. 

" ' After the tedious business of introduction had been 
gone through with all around ; after it had been re- 
marked that the trip had been a trying one to them all, 
as not being used to these long journeys in their tight 
little island, where a twelve hours' ride was considered 
the utmost, — after saying this, all felt broke up, and, 
expressing anxiety as to the Siberian climate of Chi- 
cago, ^Ir. Irving took out his cigar-case, invited his 



FROM BROOKLYN TO CHICAGO. 317 

vis-d-vis to light one of his choice weeds, and then 
prepared himself for the torture to be inflicted. 

" ^ What is your opinion of dramatic art, especially 
when comparing the English with the American, and 
both with the French tragedians?' was the first 
query. 

" ^ English dramatic art is improving, I think, and the 
prospects for it are brightening,' he said, slowly and 
reflectively. ^I've seen fine acting in some of vour 
American theatres — very fine acting; very fine.' 

"'What do you think of the custom of mutilating 
and cutting up and abbreviating the pieces of classical 
authors when presented on the stage ? In " The Mer- 
chant of Venice," for instance, the last act is omitted so 
as to give Shylock the exit. Do you approve of such 
methods, Mr.. Irving?' 

"'No, I do not ; but the custom is such an old one 
it is very difficult to alter it. The cause of it is, I sup- 
pose, that our forefathers didn't know so well, nor did 
they read Shakespeare much. It is but very recently, 
for example, that " Romeo and Juliet," " Richard III.," 
and " King Lear " have been spoken on the stage the 
way Shakespeare wrote them. Of the last one Gar- 
rick's version has been used for a century. Yet I do 
not think it right. Shakespeare is difficult to improve 
upon. Better let him alone.' 

" ' How are you pleased with your reception in 
America ? ' 

" ' Beyond all expectation and desert. I have been 
treated with a kindness, courteousness, and hospitality 
that have been really touching to me. And this, you 



318 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA, 

know, has been done despite the fact that my trip to 
America had not been indorsed by all. While on my 
way across the Atlantic, for instance, a London daily 
paper published a leading article on me, suggesting to 
the Americans not to receive me cordially ; and, not 
satisfied with this, the article was cabled over before 
our arrival. I thought this unfair and ungenerous. 
I like America, of course, though like is hardly the 
proper term. I feel deeply grateful to the American 
people for the very kind manner in which they have 
treated me. But you must come to the theatre to-night. 
I am sorry that Miss Terry will not play to-night.' 

" ^ I noticed in the papers that you have always ex- 
pressed yourself in a very chivalrous spirit when speak- 
ing of Miss Terry, sir.' 

" ' That is because I have the highest respect for the 
lady, both for her character and her talents.' 

"'Now, Mr. Irving, shirking your modesty for a mo- 
ment, and assuming as a settled fact that you are one 
of the most eminent actors living, what made you such? 
What cause or causes do you attribute your good act- 
ing to?' 

"'To acting.' 

" ' What do you mean by that ? This answer is not 
quite clear to me.' 

"'I merely want to say that by incessant acting, and 
love and study of my art, I have attained whatever 
position I hold in my profession. This is a leading 
cause, as it is, I believe, in every other art.' 

" ' What made you choose " Louis XL" in preference 
to "The Bells" as your first piece here, Mr. Irving?' 



FROM BROOKLYN TO CHIGAQO. 319 

" ^ Because it takes the least amount of stage prepara- 
tion, that's all. That reminds me to say that the reports 
you have heard about my gorgeous scenery, etc., you 
will find, I think, exaggerated. Our stage decorations 
are quite simple, and their beauty consists merely in 
their nice adjustment, and the scrupulous calculation of 
the effect produced by them on the audience.' 

" ]\Ieanwliile Miss Terry's maid had been very busy 
preparing tea and buttered toast for her mistress, tak- 
ing out dainty little things for wear out of a big lock- 
basket. Being repeatedly asked if Miss Terry could 
not be seen a moment, the train meanwhile arrived 
in Chicago, and most of the other actors and actresses 
having got off, she made evasive answers. Sud- 
denly, however, the door opened, and a very pretty lady 
looked briskly around. Tiiis, then, was Miss Ellen 
Terry 1 A beautiful woman, indeed ! Lustrous eyes 
of rare azure ; a profuseness of wavy blonde hair, long 
and of a luminous shade and silky texture ; the form 
litlie, yet full, every motion of a natural supple grace. 
She was shaking hands with the ^ Daily News ' man, 
even while Mr. Copleston introduced him, and then 
scurried back into the dark depths of her room, where 
she continued wailing : ^ I've lost my luck ! I've lost 
my luck, — my beautiful horse-shoe brooch, which I 
wouldn't have missed for the world I ' And maid and 
mistress went down on their knees, peering into every 
nook and cranny. While still thus employed : ^ You 
see. Miss Terry, the Chicago reporter is the first 
introduced to give you a hearty greeting to this 
city, and to hope you'll like your stay here as well as 



820 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

I am sure Chicago will like to hold you within her 
walls.' 

" ' Thanks ! thanks ! ' said INIiss Terry, and then con- 
tinued her search for that obstreperous brooch. 

" ' And what do you think of America ? ' 

"Miss Terry held up a round, well-shaped arm 
appealingly, and merely said. 'No, no. You mustn't 
try to interview me. I won't stumble into that 
pitfall.' 

" ' How do you like the American women, then?' 

" * Very nice and pretty they are, — those I've seen, at 
least. I think we must say, in this regard, what Lord 
Coleridge did : " They can't be all so nice and pretty ; 
I suppose I've only seen the nicest ones.' And one 
thing I'll tell you which I have not seen ; I've never set 
eyes on any Daisy Millers.' 

" ' Of course not,' rejoined the reporter. * Who ever 
heard of or saw a Daisy Miller outside of a book? 
That's a character you'll only iind in James's novel, — 
not in America, Miss Terry.' 

"And thus, still hunting for that unfortunate brooch, 
which she plaintively called her 'lost luck,' and so 
apparently a kind of voodoo or talisman, the reporter 
left her, momentarily feeling a ray out of the sun of 
her glorious eyes lighting up his departure. It was a 
little after eight o'clock then, and, while she soon after 
went by carriage to the Leland Hotel, Mr. Irving put 
up at the Grand Pacific, and was, two hours later, 
busily arranging things at Haverly's Theatre." 



TEE PRAIEIE CITY, 321 



XVI. 



THE PRAIRIE CITY. 

First Impressions of Chicago — A Bitter AVinter — Gi-eat Storms — 
Thirty Degrees below Zero — On the Shores of Lake Michigan — 
Street Architecture — Pullman City — Western Journalism — Chicago 
Criticism — Notable Entertainments — At the Press Club — The Club 
Life of America — What America has done — Unfair Comparisons be- 
tween the Great New World and the Older Civilizations of Europe — 
Mistaking Notoriety for Fame — A Speech of Thanks — Facts, Figures, 
and Tests of Popularity, Past and to Come. 



Through piles of lumber, into back streets filled 
with liquor bars, "side shows," and decorated with 
flaming posters, into fine, stately thoroughfares, 
crowded with people, past imposing buildings marked 
with architectural dignity, to the Grand Pacific Hotel. 

" It is as if Manchester had given Greenwich Fair a 
blow in the face," said Irving, — "that is my first im- 
pression of Chicago. ^The Living Skeleton,' 'The 
Tattooed Man,' 'The Heaviest Woman in the World,' 
'The Museum of Wonders,' with the painted show- 
pictures of our youth ; public houses, old-clothes shops, 
picturesque squalor. And tlien great warehouses, hand- 
some shops, and magnificent civic buildings, — what a 
change ! There is something of the * go ' of Liverpool 
and ^Manchester about it. If I was ever afraid of 
Chicago, I am afraid no longer. A people that have 
rebuilt this city within a comparatively few years 



322 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

must be great, broad-minded, -and ready in appreciat- 
ing what is good. We have something to show them 
in the way of dramatic art, — they will * catch on,' 
as they say on this side of the Atlantic, I am sm*e of 
it." 

The city was more or less snow-bound. Little or 
no effort had been made to remove the white downfall, 
either from street or sidewalk. The sun was shinins;. 
The air was, nevertheless, very cold. Within a few 
days of our arrival the thermometer had fallen to 
twenty and thirty degrees below zero. We had selected 
for our visit to America what was destined to be the bit- 
terest winter that had been known in the United States 
for over twenty years. There were storms on sea and 
land ; storms of rain, and snow, and wind, followed 
by frosts that closed the great rivers, and made even 
Lake Michigan solid for ice-boats a dozen or twenty 
miles out. The South Jersey coast was strewn with 
wreckage. Itaiiway tracks were swept away. At 
Cape May the principal pier was destroyed. The sea 
demolished the piles of Coney Island's iron piers. 
At Long Branch cottages Avere undermined by the 
water, and their contents carried out to sea. The 
well-known dancing platform and piazza of the 
Grand Union Hotel, on Rockaway Beach, were 
washed away. Terrific winds blew over Boston and 
New EuG^land. A little fleet of schooners were driven 
ashore at Portland. Vessels broke from their moorings 
in the adjacent harbors. Atlantic City had boarding- 
houses, stores, and dwellings carried away by high 
tides. 



THE PRAIRIE CITY. 323 

The mails were delayed for hours, and in some cases 
for days, on the principal railroads. Where the ob- 
stacles were not rain and flood they were wind and 
snow. Lockport, New York, reported that the snow 
on that day was four feet on the level, and still 
falling. Bradford, telegraphing for Pennsylvania 
generally, announced that fourteen inches of snow had 
fallen within a few hours, the weis^ht of it crushino^ 
in many roofs and awnings. "The narrow-gauge 
railways," ran the despatch, "five in number, have 
been closed all day ; the trains are stalled a few miles 
from the city." Even at Louisville, in Kentucky, 
navigation was suspended, and floating ice-blocks 
were battering in the sides of steamers lying at the 
wharves of Baltimore. On the Rappahannock river, 
in Virginia, a ship laden with corn was cut down and 
sunk by floating ice. These and kindred incidents oc- 
curred on or about the day of our arrival in Chicago. 
The record of the few previous days, judged from the 
official reports of Washington, and the ordinary chroni- 
cles of the times, was a very remarkable one, even for 
the coldest States of America. In some places the 
weather had been the coldest known for more than 
fifty years. Canada had had the most extreme ex- 
periences in this respect. At Winnipeg, Manitoba, 
the thermometer had fallen as low as forty -five de- 
grees below zero. 

On the day we were travelling to the prairie city, while 
the thermometer was rising in that section of the coun- 
try, it was falling in the eastern and southern States, 
registering thirty degrees below zero at Whitehall, New 



324 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

York. The Straits of Mackinaw, connecting Lake 
Michigan and Lake Huron, were navigable only on foot 
or runners. We arrived in Chicago on Monday, Jan. 
7. On the 6th the thermometer registered twenty-two 
degrees below zero. Monday's newspapers congratu- 
lated their readers that, 'Uhe wave had passed over." 
Licidents of its severity were curious and numerous. 
Hundreds of hos^s had been frozen to death on freio;ht- 
trains. The Terre Haute express from Chicago was 
snowed up for thirty-one hours. At fires which had 
broken out, water from the engines froze as it fell, and 
covered the buildings with strange, fantastic shapes. 

I had arranged to visit Gunnison (Colorado), and 
other mining cities, within a reasonable distance from 
Chicago and St. Louis ; but was persuaded to postpone 
my trip by private and public reports of the storm in 
those regions. One day's newspaper (the " Daily-News- 
Democrat," of Gunnison) contained startling evidence 
of the difficulties I should have had to encounter. 
Within a few days twenty-seven men had been killed 
by snow-slides in the mountains between Ouray and 
Telluride. A local mail-carrier was among the vic- 
tims. All the available snow-ploughs and engines of 
the various districts were at work on the tracks. En- 
gines were helplessly stuck in the snow on the Rio 
Grande. "The miner," remarked the "Daily News" 
editor, "who goes into the mountains at this season 
takes his life in his hands." I remained in Chicago 
with Irving, and am spared to chronicle these 
things. The weather was sufficiently cold for both of 
us in Chicago. It varied, too, with a persistency of 



THE PBAIRIE CITY. 325 

variation that is trying to the strongest constitution. 
One hour the thermometer would be fairly above 
zero, the next it would be far below it. Men went 
about the frozen streets in fur coats and caps, care- 
fully protecting their ears and hands. Along the 
shores of Lake Michigan were barricades of ice ; they 
looked like solid palisades of marble. Here and there, 
where tiny icebergs had been formed, the polar bear 
would not have looked out of place. It was strange 
to see the ice-boats, with their bending sails, literally 
flying along, while away out lay ships at anchor. 
jMr. Lyon took Miss Terry, Irving, and myself 
sleighing along the lake shore and upon the prairie 
beyond. My friends were delighted with the novel 
excursion, astonished at the fine boulevards through 
which we passed, amazed at the possibilities of Chi- 
cago, as they realized what had been done and what 
space had been laid out for the future. A forty-mile 
drive through great, wide boulevards designed to en- 
compass the city, is the biggest of the city's schemes, 
and it is in vigorous course of formation. 

" One is forced to admire the pluck of Chicago," said 
Irving, after our first drive. "Twice burnt down, 
twice built up, and laid out anew, on a plan that is 
magnificent. Some of the houses along Prairie and 
Michigan avenues are palaces.^ The art revival in 

^ Miss Ellen Terry is said to have a broad knowledge and high apprecia- 
tion of decorative art. During the past two or three days she has been 
doing Michigan and Prairie avenues in this city with a critical eye. "I 
noticed a good many houses, " she says, " that I did not like at all, but 
many others that are truly beautiful. The red brick ones and the yellow 
marble fronts are mostly exquisite in design and color. Here and there 
Michigan avenue reminds me of Brighton in England." — Daihj News, 



326 IMPBESSIONS OF AMEBIC A. 

street architecture and house decoration is as actively 
rife here as in London. And what a superb stone they 
have for building purposes in their yellow cream-col- 
ored marble ! It is marvellous to see how they have 
taken hold of the new ideas. The Calumet and tlie 
Chicago club-houses, — nothing could be more chaste 
than their decorations." 

One day we went to Pullman City, an industrial 
town, akin to Saltaire, near Bradford, in its scope and 
enterprise. We were invited and accompanied by Mr. 
and Mrs. Pullman, Miss Terry, JNIr. and Mrs. Dexter, 
Mr. and Mrs. James Runnion, and several other ladies 
and gentlemen. Going out in Mr. Pullman's private 
car, we lunched with him at the pretty hotel of the 
novel city, and afterwards inspected the workshops and 
principal buildings. 

"The story of the conception and creation of this 
Pullman City," said Irving, " interested me very much, 
thouo^h I confess the method of it all strikes me as some- 
what like living by machinery : the private houses 
being massed, as it were, en bloc; the shops collected 
together like arcades ; the whole place laid out with 
geometrical system ; and yet one feels that there are tine 
principles underlying it ; that the scheme is founded upon 
wise plans ; and that, from a moral and sanitary stand- 
point, the city is an ideal combination of work and 
rest, of capital and labor. Pullman's idea was a lofty 
one, and the result is very remarkable : a centre of 
industry that should give to labor its best chance, 
with capital taking its place on a platform as human as 
labor. That is the notion, as Pullman explained it 



THE PBAIRIE CITY. 327 

to me. What a square, level head it is ! Just 
the determined kind of man to be the author of a new 
city on new lines. He told me that Charles Reade's 
novel, ' Put Yourself in his Place,' had influenced him 
greatly in his ambition to found this place ; that it has 
affected all his relations towards the people under his 
direction. PoUtically, Pullman City is a paradox. 
A despotism, it still is very democratic. It owes its 
successful administration to what may be called a 
benevolent autocracy. The theatre, I am told, is more 
prosperous than the church proper, though religion is 
represented by several earnest communities. The idea 
of giving the people a chance to buy land and build 
cottage homes for themselves, at a reasonable distance 
beyond Pullman, appears to be a good one. Pullman 
himself may well be proud of his work. It is worthy of 
Chicago and the West." 

n. 

In spite of " wind and weather " the people of Chicago 
crowded Haverly's Theatre, where Irving and Miss 
Terry appeared, night after niglit, for two weeks ; and 
the critics of the great papers of the West, the "Times," 
"Tribune," "Inter-Ocean," and "Daily News," were 
equal to the occasion. They showed a knowledge of their 
work, and an appreciation of dramatic art, as ilhistrated 
by Irving, quite in keeping with the spirit and ambition 
of their new and wonderful city. A news-collector, 
having in view the prejudices of New York and Lon- 
don, as to the literary and journalistic cultivation of 
Chicago, selected an enthusiastic line or two from the 



328 IMPBESSIOXS OF AMEBICA. 

Chicago notices of Irving and Miss Terry, with a view 
to cast ridicule upon western criticism. This kind of 
thino' is common to news-collectors on both sides of the 
Atlantic. A reporter desires to please his editor, and 
to cater for his public. In London, believing that 
New York will be stirred with the report of a hostile 
demonstration against an American artist, he makes 
the most of the working of a rival American clique 
there against Lotta. Xew York looks down loftily 
upon the art culture of Chicago, and London chiefly 
knows Chicago through its great fire, borne with so 
much fortitude, and for its "corners in pork." The 
local caterer for the news columns of New York and 
London panders to tliese ideas. The best-educated 
writer, the neatest essayist, might appear foolish ))y 
cuttinix unconnected sentences out of his work, and 
printing them alone. 

In the journalistic literature of modern criticism 
there is nothing better than some of the essays ou 
Irving and his art that appeared in tlie papers of 
Chicaii'O and the West. In this connection it is worth 
while pointing out that the absence of an international 
copyright between England and America forces native 
writers, who otherwise would be writing books, into 
the press. So long as publishers can steal or buy "for 
a mere song '' the works of popuhir English authors 
they will not give a remunerative wage to the compara- 
tively unknown writers of their own coimtry. Theie- 
fore, busy thinkers, — men and women with literary 
inspirations devote themselves to journalism. It would 
be surprising if, under these circumstances, the west- 



THE PRAIRIE CITY. 329 

em press should not here and there entertain and 
instruct its readers with literary and critical work 
as much entitled to respect, and as worthy to live, 
as the more pretentious and more happily and fortu- 
nately placed literature of London, Boston, and New 
York. The American authors best known to-day, 
and most praised in both hemispheres, have written 
for the newspapers, and some of them had their train- 
ing on the press : Bret liarte, IVIark Twain, How- 
ells, Aldrich, John Hay, James, Habberton, Winter, 
Bryant, Artemus Ward (I leave the reader to com- 
plete the list, for I mention these name en passant 
and at random) ; and how many otliers are coming on 
through the columns of the newspapers to take up the 
running, who shall say ? Tiie Chicago press often sac- 
rifices dignity and good taste in the headings with whicli 
it seeks to surprise and excite its readers. But this is a 
feature of Westerij journalism that will go out with 
the disappearance of the lower civilization to which, in 
covering the entire ground of its circulation, it unhesi- 
tatingly appeals. The London press is not free from 
the charge of pandering to depraved tastes in its re- 
ports of sensational murders and divorce cases, though 
the great body of its writers and contributors no doubt 
sit down to their work with a liiMier sense of their re- 

o 

sponsibility to the public than is felt by their American 
contemporaries. 

" Do you think that is so ? " Irving asked, when I was 
propounding this view to an American colleague. 

"Yes," said the journalist addressed; "but I think 
our newspapers are far more interesting than yours. 



330 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

At the same time you beat us in essay- writing, for that 
is what your editorials are, — they are essays." 

"That is true," said Irving, "and very fine some 
of them are." 

But to return to Chicago criticism, — I repeat that 
among the best and most appreciative and most scholarly 
of the criticisms upon Irving and his art, in England and 
America, are the writings of the Chicago journalists, — 
McPhelin, of the "Tribune," Barron, of the " Inter- 
Ocean," McConnell, of the "Times," and Pierce, of the 
"Daily News." The two first mentioned are quite young 
men, not either of them more than twenty-five. I am 
tempted to quote, in justification of this opinion, and 
as an example of Chicago work, the following extracts 
from one of several equally well-written criticisms in 
the " Tribune " : — 

It is true that in every department of art the power of the 
imagination has declined with the advance of knowledge. 
The Greek actors went into convulsions through excess of pas- 
sion. A Koman actor in the midst of frenzied recitation struck 
a slave dead. If we have not so much imagination as the an- 
cients (a fact which we need not regret), we have finer sensi- 
bilities, more penetrating insight, and a truer consciousness of 
life's mystery and meaning. The art of to-day, if less exuber- 
ant than that of yesterday, is more serene, and, above all, its 
methods are more truthful. 

They are the great actors who have kept pace with the most 
advanced thought, who have typified in their art the spirit of 
their age, who have inaugurated eras. Conservatism is stag- 
nation. In its infancy the art of acting was monstrous ex- 
aggeration. This was natural, for it was fostered in the child- 
hood of the world, and children love exaggeration. When, at 
last, the stilts and masks were thrown away, exaggeration of 



THE PRAIRIE CITY. 331 

speech was preserved. Actors recited their lines in loud, monoto- 
nous sing-song. The ranters of our stage to-day are the lineal 
descendants of these men. Le Kain in France, and Garrick in 
England, made great strides towards natural methods in dra- 
matic representation. The reflective genius of Kemble, at the 
beginning of this century, did much to complete the revolution 
in taste begun by Garrick. Kean was noted for the splendor 
and the volume of his power rather than for innovations in 
methods of expression. The actors who followed him prided 
themselves on their adherence to tradition, — tradition for 
which the rest of the world cared nothing. These artists were 
content to stand still while the culture of the century passed 
by them. At last there emerged out of obscurity, out of the 
jostling multitude of mediocrity, a man who drank in the 
spirit of his age, — a man who broke down the rotten barriers of 
tradition ; a man who caught the intensity, the poetr^j, the 
artistic realism of his time ; a man who inaugurated a new 
epoch in the art of acting. Final success was achieved only 
after a long and bitter struggle against conservative prejudices. 

Tills man was Henry Irving. 

In a broad and comprehensive way his position on the 
English stage has been defined above. After witnessing his 
impersonations of Louis XL and Shylock, some conclusions 
may be drawn as to his genius and his methods. 

There is nothing phenomenal or meteoric about this new 
actor. Henry Irving is not what Diderot would have us be- 
lieve a great actor should be, namely, a man without sensi- 
bility. Diderot said that sensibility was organic weakness; 
that it crippled the intelligence, rendering acting alternately 
warm and cold ; and that the great actor should have penetra- 
tion, without any sensibility whatever. But Talma called 
sensibility the faculty of exaltation which shakes an actor's 
very soul, and which enables him to enter into the most tragic 
situations and the most terrible of passions as if they were his 
own. In the discussion of these conflicting theories Henry 
Irving has always taken Talma's view. He comes nearer 
realizing Diderot's ideal of greatness than any other actor of 
whom we have record. 



332 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

His imagination is picturesque almost to the verge of sub- 
limity. His fancy is lively and apparently inexhaustible. 
When he unrolls before us the varied-colored robe of life we 
look in vain to find one color missing. It is a fancy that is 
not only vivid, but that is most poetic. How touching is that 
return of Shylock to his lonely home, walking wearily over 
the deserted bridge, — the bridge that echoed only a moment 
before to the shouts and laughter of the merry maskers ! The 
old man walks to the house from which his daughter has fled, 
knocks twice at the door, and looks up patiently and expect- 
antly towards the casement. Then the curtain falls. The 
people who do not applaud such a tender touch as this should 
stop going to the theatre. 

In saying that Irving is realistic, that word is not used in its 
grosser sense. Realism should be the union of the ideal and 
the true. There may be truth in Zola's realism, but there is 
no ideality; for ideality rejects the trivial, the vulgar, the 
earthly, and grasps the essence. There may be ideality in 
Mrs. Burnett's novels, but sentiment is substituted for truth. 
The realism of Howells, for instance, is a union of the ideal 
and the true. Irving's ideals are in harmony with the realistic 
tendency of literary thought, because they are drawn from 
humanity, and not from Olympus. His are human, not heroic, 
ideals. His Louis XI. is as true to nature as any impersona- 
tion can be ; and yet it is ideal, inasmucli as the essence of the 
character is incorporated in action, and the baseness, the 
cruelty, the bigotry, of the king are not repugnant. Here is 
the union of the ideal and the true. If a man like Zola were 
playing Louis XL he would shock and disgust us by a portrayal 
not essential, but of superficial grossness. 

In attem.pting to estimate Irving's genius one cannot catalogue 
qualities, but must indicate in a general way the nature of that 
genius as it is judged from its manifestations. Irving cannot 
be classified, for he is the leader of a new school of acting, as 
Tennyson is the leader of a new school of poetry. They who 
in the future will write of the great Victorian Era will find, 
perhaps, a resemblance between the actor and the poet, not 



THE PRAIRIE CITY. 333 

only because both have opened np new fields of art, but be- 
cause the cliief characteristic of each is originality in form. 
If Tennyson is the poet who should be read by poets, Irving is 
the actor who should be studied by actors. The idea intended 
to be conveyed is, that both Tennyson and Irving excel in per- 
fection of detail ; in other words, of technique, or form. 
The great poet who wishes to be heard in the future must give 
us the polish and the intensity of Tennyson ; the actor who 
would be great must give us the polish and the intensity of 
Irving. 

Any line in Irving's acting will illustrate his intensity, by 
which is meant the grasping of a fuller meaning than appears 
on the surface. When Shylock is flattering Portia in the 
trial scene, exclaiming, " A Daniel come to judgment," etc., 
it is startling, the manner in which he leans forward suddenly 
and whispers with venomous unction and cunning the insidi- 
ous compliment, "How much more elder art thou than thy 
looks!" The words are very simple, but their otlccts depend 
on the intensity of meaning with which they are uttered. 

Praise has already been accorded Irving's Shylock, because 
it is a type of the medio3val Jew, interpreted, not according to 
the traditions of a bigoted age, but in the light of the liber- 
a.lity of the nineteenth century. This creation is, perhajDS, the 
best proof of the assertion that Henry Irving has embodied in 
his art the spirit of his age, and therein lies his greatness. 

Several lessons American managers will draw from the 
success of the Irving engagement. One is that Shakespearian 
23lays must not be mutilated to give prominence to one actor. 
Artistic harmony must not be sacrificed to personal ambition. 
Another lesson is that an actor must not undertake all alone to 
act a play ; he must have a com2:)any of actors, not a company 
of incompetent amateurs. A third is that Shakespearian plays 
arc the jewels of dramatic literature, and their setting should 
surely be as rich as that given to the extravagant productions 
that are doing so much to vitiate popular taste. 

In conclusion it may be remarked that it is gratifying that 
Henry Irving in his American tour has been regarded, not 
from a fashionable or a national, but from a purely artistic 



334 IMPBESSIONS OF AMEBICA. 

stand-point. In art the Spartan and the Athenian are brothers ; 
the same love of beauty lives in Rome and in Geneva, in 
London and in New York. In the sunshine of art the national 
merges into the universal, and the mists of prejudice die away 
upon the horizon of the world. 



in. 

All the forecasts that warned Irving to expect in 
Chicago a coarse fibre of civilization and an absence of 
artistic appreciation were reversed in tlie Prairie city. 
Night after night great, generous, enthusiastic audi- 
ences crowded Haverly's Theatre. Quick of perception, 
frank in their recognition of the best features of Ir- 
ving's work, they were cordial in their applause, and 
hearty in their greetings of the novelty of it. The 
critics interpreted the sentiments of the audiences, and 
put their feelings into eloquent sentences. They 
showed knowledge and sincerity of intention and pur- 
pose, and some of them criticised severely the carping 
spirit in which one or two Eastern contemporaries 
had dealt with the London actors. The hospitality of 
Chicago is proverbial. It was made manifest in many 
ways, — in offers of carriages for sleigh-riding, of ice- 
boats, of railway cars. Irving and Miss Terry had to 
decline more invitations than they accepted. Members 
of the company were also entertained at breakfasts and 
suppers. After the first night, and the acceptation of 
Irving as a reformer of the stage, and as the author of 
what to Chicago was a new pleasure, the city literally- 
opened its doors to Irving and his friends. Among 
the receptions to Mr. Irving was a breakfast given 



TEE PRAIRIE CITY. 335 

by Mr. John B. Carson,^ at which the Mayor spoke 
of the pleasure Chicago experienced in Irving's visit, 
and upon which occasion Mr. Joseph Medill, the 
editor of the "Tribune," who had seen Irving in Lon- 

1 The company included His Worsliip the Mayor of Chicag-o (the Hon. 
Carter Harrison) ; G. M. Pullman (of Pullman City) ; J. Medill (editor of 
the " Tribune ") ; Murray Nelson ; Mr. Gage (banker) ; Major-General 
Schofield ; Marshall Field ; Mr, Dexter ; George Dunlap ; C. R. Cumraings ; 
Genei'al A. Stager, and J. B. Lyon. The menu was remarkable for its 
luxurious elegance, and the speaking, though informal, and in no sense 
prearranged, was notable for being chiefly confined to the arts and their 
influences on civilization. Mr. JohnB. Carson proposed " Health and con- 
tinued success to Henry Irving," and welcomed him to the West in terms of 
hearty friendship. " And I only hope," he said, " you will one day come to 
Quincy, which is my head-quarters ; we are not a very great population, but 
we have a fine theatre, and we enjoy a good play." Quincy has a population 
of twenty -five thousand, is beautifully situated on a limestone bluff", one 
hundred and twenty-five feet above the Mississippi river. Mr. Carson and 
his friends at Quincy sent Mr. Abbey a guarantee of ^4,000, for one night's 
visit of the Iiwing Company. It will be interesting to add, in this place, 
that many " theatre parties " came to Chicago, from distant cities, to see 
Irving. Some of them travelled all day, and several of their newspapers 
contained reports and criticisms of the performances. The Pockford 
''Register," for example, printed the following in its leading columns; 
*' Remarkable success has attended the performances of Henry Irving, the 
celebrated English actor, during the present week, at Haverly's Theatre, 
Chicago. For once the severest critics in the country have their scalpels 
blunted and dulled by the perfection of his work combined with the exact- 
ness of the stage-setting. There has never appeared an actor on the boards 
of Chicago who has received siich lavish, unreserved praise from the critics 
and the press. It is doubtless true that there is no other actor in the 
world who has studied so thoroughly all the minor details of every play, 
arranging every bit of scenery, every position of the most unimportant 
member of the cast. Nor has there been such an outlay of money else- 
where b}'' any one to secure the completest perfection of every surround- 
ing. The result is, that every play to which this student-actor lends his 
attention becomes correct and faithful, historically and artistically. He 
]-emains in Chicago for another week, and those of our citizens who love 
art in its highest sense have now an opportunity that is not likely to be 
offered again for studying the man Avhose name is a household word in 
England, and whose fame is world-renowned. Miss Terry likewise is 
winning well-earned laurels, while the entire company of English actors 



336 niPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

don, as well as in Chicago, -proclaimed him the one 
Shakespearian actor who interprets and exliibits the 
conceptions of the poet with a proper naturalness, 
and in such a manner as to make people regret that 
Shakespeare could not revisit the world to see what 
had at last been done for his plays. The health of 
Miss Terry was proposed and drunk with all the 
honors ; as it was, also, at a very dainty reception 
given one night after the play to Miss Terry herself, at 
the Calumet Club, by Mr. and Mrs. John B. JefFery,^ 
and, on a later occasion, at the Leland Hotel, at 
a supper given by Mr. Emery A. Storrs^ to Mr. 
Irving. Professor Swing was among the speak- 
ers on this occasion, and during the evening pleasant 

are Mr. Irving's continuous and carefully chosen support, and rank high in 
their respective roles. A party of prominent citizens to attend in a body 
one night next week has been formed. In that event, Mr. Perkins states 
that the North--\A'estern road would probably make special rates. 

^The menu cards on this occasion were gems in the way of printing and 
binding. They were exquisitely encased in alligator-leather and silver. 
With each of them was a guest-card, on which was Avritten a poetic wel- 
come, couched in bright, humorous, and complimentary terms — the work 
of the hostess. Many ladies and gentlemen of position were present, and 
the affair was one of the pleasantest in the history of the Calumet Club. 

2At eleven o'clock last evening Mr. Emery A. Storrs gave a supper in 
honor of Mr. Henry Irving, at the Leland Hotel, and pleasantly enter- 
tained thirty-five well-known gentlemen. The guests assembled about ten 
o'clock, in room twent}^, and shortly afterward adjourned to Mr. Storrs* 
suite of parlors on the Michigan-avenue front of the hotel. Mr. Irving 
and Mr. llatton arrived soon after eleven o'clock, and, after a few 
minutes' social chat, the party proceeded to the small dining-haU. The 
arrangements were elaborate and perfect, and the decorations were veiy 
handsome. Lines of flags of all nations extended from the four corners 
of the room, crossing one another just under the dome in the centre. 
Hanging by an invisible Avire from the electric light in the dome was a 
double-faced floral circle, edged with smilax, through the centre of which 
was a floral bar. On one side of this was the name " Irving," and ou the 



THE PRAIRIE CITY. 337 

allusion was made to the visit of Lord Chief Justice 
Coleridge, and to English writers who had not con- 
fined their attention solely to the shortcomings of 
Chicago. Irving, in responding to the toast of his 

other side " Terry," in red carnations upon a white ground. The walls 
were hung with the English and American colors, and directly behind the 
guest's seat was a bust of Shakespcai-e, over Avhich was looped the English 
flag, caught up by a shield, bearing the arms of Great Britain and Ireland. 
Above this was a banner bearing the following inscription : " * One touch 
of nature makes the whole world kin' — Irving and Booth." At the 
opposite end of the room, just above the door, was a similar banner, 
inscribed as follows : '"To hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature' — 
Ellen Terry and Mary Anderson." Immediately opposite the entrance to 
the room was the inscription, " Greeting and Welcome," and oyer the 
entrance was inscribed, " Not that we think us \\^rthy such a guest, but 
that your worth will dignify our feast." To the left of this was a l)anner, 
bearing the following : *' Suit the action to the word, the word to the 
action, with the special observation that you overstep not the modesty of 
Nature." And to the right was a banner, inscribed as follows : " All the 
world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players ; they have 
their exits and their entrances." The table was arranged in the shape of 
a " T," with the host, the guest of the evening, and a few of the more 
favored sitting at the cross of the *' T." Immediately in front of the seats 
of Mr. Irving and ISIr. Storrs was an immense basket of flowers, —which 
was sent later in the evening to Miss Terry, Avith Mr. Storrs' compliments, 
— and to the right and left of this was a floral bell, suggesting the actor's 
favorite play, " The Bells." In the body of the " T " was a huge epergne of 
fruit and flowers, and trails of smilax were laid the length of the cloth. In 
front of each one of the thirty-five plates was a fragrant bovtonniere, and a 
satin-covered card bearing the name of the guest diagonally across a marine 
scene. Delicate-tinted glasses to the right of each plate suggested liquid en- 
■ joyment to follow. The following is a list of the guests as they sat at tabic : — 
Emery A. Storrs, Henry Irving, Joseph Hatton, General Schoficld, 
Professor Swing, Perry H. Smith, Professor Eraser, William Balcora, F. 
B. Wilkie, E. II. Winston, J. D. Harvey, M. E. Stone, Alfred Cowlcs, D. 
B. Shipman, W. C. D. Grauuis, W. P. Nixon, W. S. Walker, Dr. Jackson, 
Mr. Phinuev, Leonard Hodges. Canon Knowles, A. F. Secberger Louis 
Wahl, S. D.' Kimbark, C. P. Kimball, J. L. High, Mr. Clement, Washing- 
ton Hesing, J. M. Dandy, Mr. Lewis, Mr. Griswokl, Mr. Harper, Mr. 
Dewey, Mr. Thayer, Mr. liord, Mr. Bacon. After supper ISIr. Storrs, in 
a witty prelude, explaining that there were to be no speeches, proposed the 
health of Mr. Irving. The famous actor having responded, Joseph Hatton, 



338 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

health, described his sensations on enterins^ Chicasfo : 
" I came warned against you ; but knowing your his- 
tory. When I saw your great city, and felt how mucli 
you had done, and how much that was broad and 
generous and courageous belonged to such enterprise 
and ambition, my instinct told me that you would be 
with me in my work ; that you would, at least, respect 
it ; and that if you liked it no jealousies, no prejudices, 
would stand in the way of your saying so." 

The Press Club^ " received " Irving and Miss Terry 

who, by his works and in his own person, is well known in Chicago, was 
toasted. Miss Teny was not forgotten during the unstudied and informal 
eloquence of the evening. A magnificent basket of flowers was sent to 
her, with the respectful compliments of the host and his friends. — Trib- 
une and other newspaper reports. 

1 The reception to Henry Irving and Miss Ellen Teny, by the Chicago 
Press Club last evening, Avas a brilliant social and professional event. It 
was a graceful recognition of Great Britain's greatest histrionic stars. 
Many professional people, including MUe. Ehea, Mrs. Jessie Bartlett- 
Davis, and others of note on the dramatic and operatic stage, were present, 
and were presented to the distinguished guests of the evening, together 
with a large number of literateurs, journalists, and members of the bar. 
Miss Terry came in shortly after eleven o'clock. She was presented to 
Mile. Khea, and the two artists who had thus met in conversation for the 
first time chatted pleasantly while the other guests gathered about them, 
and were introduced as occasion permitted. Miss Teny said she had 
witnessed MUe. Rhea's acting in Ivondon, when the latter first began to 
speak English. Miss Terry talked pleasantly to several ladies, who ex- 
pressed great delight at the opportunity thus aiforded them to form the 
acquaintance of so excellent a woman, and so talented a member of the 
dramatic profession. 

Mr. Irving came in shortly after Miss Terry arrived, accompanied by 
Joseph Ilatton and an escort from the Press Club. The great actor was a 
centre of attraction, and he submitted in the most kindly manner to the 
ordeal of introductions and the pressing multitude of guests who moved 
about the rooms. About midnight lunch was served. It was nearly one 
o'clock when Mr. Irving, Miss Terry, and Mr. Terriss departed. Most of 
the company remained, and listened to some fine singing by George Sweet 
and Miss Lena Hastreiter. It was nearly two o'clock before the other 



THE PRAIRIE CITY. 339 

and several members of the Lyceum company. "Noth- 
ing could have been conceived or carried out in a more 
frank and friendly spirit than the Press Club recep- 
tion," said Irving, on returning to his hotel ; " no pre- 
tence, no affectation, a hearty crowd. They treated 
us as if we had known each other all our lives, and I 
begin to feel as if they were old friends. It is the 
absence of caste in America, I conclude, that gives 
a meeting of this kind its real cordiality. Nobody 
is afraid of anybody else ; there is an absence 
of self-restraint, and, at the same time, of self-con- 
sciousness. I liked them, too, for not apologizing 
for their very unpretentious rooms ; and I think they 
are right in adhering to the principles on which the club 
is founded, that it shall be purely a press club. Do 
you remember the evening at the journalists' club in 
Philadelphia ? But that was a man's night only. Very 
delightfid too, eh? I thought so. Indeed, the club life 
of America, from the humblest to the highest, is charac- 
terized by a cordiality and freedom that is glorious ; I 



guests dispersed. Among the many present were the following : Mr. and 
Mrs. Will. J. Davis, Miss Grace Cartland, Mr. and Mrs. James W. Scott, Mr. 
and Mrs. Franc B. \yilkie, Miss Ada M. Dunne, Mr. and Mrs. Leo Can- 
man, Mr. and Mrs. George Broderick, Professor Swing, Emery A. Storrs, 
Miss May Waldren, C. P. Dresser, W. D. Eaton, Walter Mcadowcroft, E. 
A. Barron, Elliott Durand, Mr. and Mrs. C. 11. McConnclI, R. J. Murphy, 
Judge and Mrs. Bradwell, Mr. and Mrs. John B. Jeffery, John ISL Ayer, 
Professor Bastin, Col. and Mrs.;Nat. Reed, John A. Hamlin, John Hamb- 
line, Mr. And Mrs. F. A. Kice, Mr. and Mrs. Frank C. Cooper, E. P. Hall, 
Professor Pt. Welsh and Mrs. Welsh, INtiss Bessie Bradwell, Henry W. 
Thomson, Miss Kate McPhelin, Mrs. McPhelin, Mr. and Mrs. Wash. 
Hesing, Miss Gertie Buckley, Miss Lillian Powell, Miss Clark, Al. Clark, 
n. D. Russell, Mr. and Mrs. F. G. Logan, Miss Van Inwegan, Mr. and 
Mrs. T. Z. Cowles, J. M. Dandy, and T. C. MacMillan. — J/bmirt^ News* 



340 IMPEESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

think so. No nonsense, no unnecessary formality ; they 
give you the best, and make you at home at once. So 
nice to be introduced straightway, and be on terms with 
all the fellows ! I find, by one of the newspapers, that 
I am keeping a scrap-book, — they have seen Houson's 
handiwork, I imagine. I was just thinking that if one 
indulijed in that sort of thino- , what a collection of club 
cards and menus one would have ! There is not a city 
we have visited where we have not been made free 
of all the clubs, from Boston to Chicago. The Bos- 
ton clubs are very fine, English-like in many respects. 
But there is nothing, I suppose, more gorgeous than 
the Union League, at New York. I'll tell you what 
strikes me most about America, — the immensity of 
the work it has done in regard to the material welfare 
of its people ; in building up a new civilization ; provid- 
ino' for the comforts of the thousands wdio crowd into 
its ports from the Old World ; taking care of them and 
froverning them, giving them a share of their wealth, 
and welding the incongruous mass into one great peo- 
ple. I don't wonder that young men who have only 
their honest hands and hopes as legacies from parents 
come here to make homes and names, to found families, 
and lay up for their old age. It is a w^onderful coun- 
try ; the thought of it almost inspires me with elo- 
quence, and I think on many a night it has given me a 
new energy, and a new love for my own work. I no- 
tice, by the papers, that some English visitor has been 
writing in one of the English periodicals what is called 
^ a slashing criticism ' upon American habits and cus- 
toms, and making unfair comparisons between the life 



THE PRAIRIE CITY. 341 

objects of the men and women of this great New World 
and the older civilizations of Europe. This sort of 
criticism can only be mere surf^ice work ; it does not 
consider and weigh results ; it does not count how great 
a thing has been done in a short time ; it does not see 
how marvellously successful this people has been in 
making a law unto itself, a civilization unto itself, and 
how it has not yet had time to rest and tack on to its 
great, sweeping garments the fringes and ribbons and 
jewels that belong to an age of rest, and luxury, 
and art. They are but small critics, and they are not 
respectfully conscious of the j)ossibilities of the close 
union of England and America, who discuss America 
in a petty way, and do not give her the credit she 
deserves for all she has done in the cause of freedom 
and of humanity." 

He paced the room as he talked, and I applauded his 
peroration. 

"And you say you cannot * orate,' to use a local 
phrase, except about acting." 

" It is an easy thing to make a speech in one's own 
room, but a different thing standing up before an audi- 
ence, eh? " 

"Anyhow," 1 said, "we will make a point about 
that hap-hazard criticism of irresponsible persons, who 
do not consider either the truth, or the feelings of a na- 
tion, so long as they can put together a few smart things 
for their own glorification. Nobody ever heard of the 
writer you mention until he abused America ; and some 
men mistake notoriety for fame." 



342 IMPEESSIONS OF AMEBICA. 



lY. 

The pieces produced during the two weeks of Irving's 
stay in Chicago were " Louis XL," " The Merchant of 
Venice," "The Bells," "The Belle's Stratagem," and 
"The Lyons Mail." On the last night, being called 
before the curtain by one of the most crowded houses 
of the season, he addressed the audience as follows : — 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, — It is my privilege to 
thank you for the hearty and enthusiastic welcome 
which you have given us during our too short stay 
amongst you. Many years ago, when a boy in Eng- 
land, I remember a song, — 

*' ' To the West ! to the West ! 
To the land of the free ! ' 

I little dreamed in those days I should ever see 
your fair city — the Queen of the West. For the 
welcome you have given my colleagues and myself I 
thank you, — especially I thank you on behalf of Miss 
Ellen Terry, whose indebtedness to you is equal to my 
own. I was good-humoredly told the other day that I 
was too pleased with America, especially with Chicago ; 
and if I were to find some faults it might be a relief, 
and would vary the monotony a little. (Laughter.) 

" Well, I hope I am not naturally a fault-finder; 
but, if I were, you have afforded me no opening; for 
you have loaded us with gratitude, and extended to us a 
welcome as broad as the prairie upon which you stand. 
I cannot leave you without thanking the press of 



TEE PRAIRIE CITY, 343 

Chicago for its sympathy, its eloquent and its ungrudo-- 
ing recognition of at least a sincere, although incom- 
plete, effort to bring the dramatic art abreast of the 
other arts, and not leave the art of the stage behind and 
out in the cold in the general march of progress. 

" I am very glad to tell you that we shall soon meet 
again ; for we shall have the honor of appearing before 
you on the 11th of next month, when we shall have 
the gratification of spending another week amongst 
you. And now I beg to thank you again and again, 
and I can but hope that we may live in your memories 
as you will live in ours." (Applause.) 

The receipts for the first week in Chicago were 
$17,048, and for the second, $19,117 ; making a total 
of $36,166. From a mere box-office point of view the 
success of his visit is unprecedented ; the increase of the 
receipts at the close of the engagement dissipating the 
last " weak invention of the enemy," that Irving only 
excites curiosity. If this shallow nonsense merited the 
smallest attention the figures already quoted would be 
a sufficient answer. A truer test of the genuineness 
of Irving's popularity, and the hold his work has 
obtained upon the intelligent and intellectual public 
of America, will be the character of his reception 
when, in the course of the present tour, he begins to 
pay return visits to Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia, and 
New York ; for he goes back to these cities when their 
enthusiasm may be said to have cooled, and in the 
Lenten season, which is largely observed in the chief 
cities of the United States. 



344 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



XVII. 

ST. LOUIS, CINCINNATI, INDIANAPOLIS, 
COLUMBUS. 

Sunshine and Snow — "VVintiy Landscapes — Fire and Frost — Pictu- 
resque St. Louis — "The Elks" — A Notable Beception — "Dime 
Shows" — Under-studies — Germany in America — "On the Ohio" 
— Printing- under Difficulties — " Baggage-smashing " — Handsome 
Xegroes and Sunday Papers — The Wonders of Chicago. 



I. 

There was a little crowd of friends at the railway 
station, to see us take our leave of Chicago, at noon on 
Sunday, January 20, 1884. The weather was cold, 
but there was a bright, sunny sky. Everybody was 
in good spirits. The "Edwin Forrest" car, in which 
we travelled, had now quite a familiar appearance. 
Georo^e, a colored attendant who had charo^e of it, was 
there, with a merry grin upon his broad, intelligent 
features. "A right good fellow, George," said Irving. 
"Yes, that's so," was George's response, as he relieved 
him of his coat and stick, and led the way to the pretty 
little suite of rooms on wheels allotted to Irving and 
his friends. The other cars were also admirably ap- 
pointed. " This is something like a day for travelling," 
said one member of the company to another. The sun 
blazed down upon them as they walked about, await- 
ing the signal for departure, but there appeared to be 
very little warmth in it. The sunbeams were bright, 



ST. LOUIS, CINCINNATI, ETC. 345 

but tliey seemed to have contracted a chill as they fell. 
Every now and then a gust of icy wind would come 
along, as if to put truth into this conclusion. Terriss 
and Tyars, braving the weather without overcoats, as 
Englishmen delight to do, soon discovered that, after 
all, the winter was still with us. As the cry " xill 
aboard," followed by the clanging of the engine-bell, 
set the train in motion, we entered once more upon 
severely wintry scenes of ice and snow. 

Within a very short time we found ourselves in the 
midst of snow-drifts, out of which preceding trains 
had had to cut their way. Gangs of men were clear- 
ing the track, flinging up the snow on both sides of the 
road in solid shovelfuls. The white debris was piled 
up six and eight feet high, where the snow had settled 
down in great drifts upon the line. "One train was 
stuck here five hours yesterday," said the guard. " It 
is the heaviest snow in my experience." 

Moving onwards once more, we travelled through a 
world of snow : through prairie-lands, where the wind 
came tearing after us, waited upon by scudding clouds 
of snow, that rose like spray, to fall in its wake as if 
the prairie were a snow-sea ; past forests of oak, with 
the brown leaves clinging to the tough branches, that 
moved with a sturdy kind of protest against the boister- 
ous wind ; across great rivers, that were closed to 
navigation. Now and then skating-parties flitted by us 
in sheltered bends of the great silent water-ways, and 
at intervals the sun would burst out upon the white 
world and fill it with icy diamonds. 

We met a train with five engines. It came plunging 



346 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA, 

along, — a veritable procession of locomotives. The 
foremost of them were mighty ploughs, to charge the 
growing snow-drifts we had left behind us. By and 
by the sun went down, and when our lamps were 
lighted, and it was night, as we thought, we looked 
out to see one of the magnificent sunsets which had 
been puzzling for many weeks the wise men of both 
worlds, — a wide red glare in the sky, stretching away 
as far as the eye could see, with a white foreground, 
the line of the horizon dotted with the dark con- 
fimu'ation of farm buildins^s and forest trees. 

At three o'clock in the morning we arrived at 
St. Louis, and on the next day I walked across 
the ice-locked ^lississippi. In a street adjacent to 
the wharves, where steamers and boats of all kinds 
were frozen up, were the remains of an old hotel, that 
had been burnt out a short time previously. The 
thermometer stood at twenty degrees below zero. A 
first glance at the place, from a short distance, showed a 
house with what looked like packs of wool thrust out at 
the windows, and great bundles and entanglements of 
wool hanging down to the ground from eaves and win- 
dow-sills. On examination these strange appearances 
turned out to be excrescences of ice, — part of the 
water that had been poured upon the flames by the 
fire-brigades, whose engines had literally been frozen 
up in the street. Inside the devastated buildings the 
ruins were hung with icicles many feet in length, with 
others rising to meet them, mimicking the stalactites 
and stalagmites of the Cheddar caverns, in England, 
not to mention the more famous caves of Kentucky. 



ST. LOUIS, CINCINNATI, ETC. 347 

A picturesque city, St. Louis, smoky and not over- 
clean, but seated grandly upon the broad river which 
local enterprise has spanned with a roadway that is 
worthy of the engineering skill of the people whose 
locomotives climb the Kocky Mountains, and whose 
brido-es are the admiration of the world. One of the 
picturesque memories of the tour, that will reappear at 
odd times in "the magic lantern of the mental vision," 
will be the procession of carts and wagons drawn by 
teams of mules, driven by colored drivers, that is con- 
tinually passing over the bridge, across the Mississippi, 
at St. Louis. The English government have obtained 
a great many mules from this part of the United States. 
There could be no finer breed of this useful animal than 
the examples one saw at St. Louis. The drivers, almost 
to a man, appeared to be wearing old army cloaks. 
The greyish-blue of the cloth and the red linings, toned 
down to rare " symphonies " of worn color, were in 
perfect harmony with the atmospheric and material sur- 
roundings. Smoke hanging like a pall over the city ; 
a wintry mist creeping along the icy river; the 
approaches to the bridge lost in the local haze of smoke 
and snowy clouds ; the great mercantile procession of 
mules, and carelessly laden wagons, bursting with 
cotton, corn, and hides, made a fine busy foreground 
to a very novel scene. 

St. Louis accepted the plays, the acting, the scenery, 
and the stage management of the Lyceum with much 
of the earnest admiration that had characterized the 
Chicago audiences. The "Eepublican," the "Globe- 
Democrat," the "Poet-Dispatch," and the "Chronicle" 



348 IMPBESSIONS OF AMEBIC A. 

had lengthy and appreciative notices of " The Lyons 
Mail," "The Bells," and "The Merchant of Venice." 
The spirit of the criticism is crystallized in the follow- 
ing remarks, which appeared as an editorial in the 
"Post-Dispatch" of Jan. 22: — 

To the delighted audience which hung with rapt attention 
last night on each word and look, each tone and motion, of 
Henry Irving, there was only one element of disappointment. 
This was that they had not been i^repared at all for any such 
magnificent revelation of dramatic genius. ... As far as 
the people of St. Louis are concerned we have only to say 
that those who miss seeing him will sustain a loss that can 
never be made good. 

II. 

AiviONG the social events of the visit to St. Louis 
was a reception given in the lodge and club rooms of 
the*" Elks." ^ The event was regarded as of so much 

iThe institution of '* The Elks " is one of great influence and impor- 
tance. Its objects are to promote and advance the material and social 
interests of the theatrical profession, and to give mutual aid and assistance 
to the members in case of pecuniary need. Candidates for admission to 
the order must be " proposed and vouched for " by existing members ; and 
before election they must pass through the ordeal of the ballot " after an 
investigation as to character by a committee of the lodge." Membership 
is a title to relief in distress wherever there is a lodge ; but a " Black 
Book " is kept and cii-culated containing the names of members who have 
proved unworthy of their privileges. Members need not necessarily be 
actors. Many lawyers and journalists are Elks. The charity of the 
order is secretly dispensed l)y an executive committee, swoi-n not to divulge 
the channels into which it flows, or the names of those who request assist- 
ance. Annual performances in aid of the " charity fund " arc given at the 
theatres. One of these " benefits " occurred during Mr. Irving's first visit 
to New York. IiTing, finding it impossible to accept an invitation to be 
present, either as a performer or a spectator, sent a donation ; and this was 
acknowledged b}" a formal resolution of thanks, which, beautifully 



ST. LOUIS, CINCINNATI, ETC. 349 

interest and importance, and the Elks is so excellent an 
institution, and the affair so different to anything asso- 
ciated with the theatre in England, that it merits special 
attention. The local reporter will not, I am sure, feel an- 
noyed if I call in his aid to make the record complete : — 
The lodge and club rooms, the hall-ways and the 
corridors, were decorated for the occasion. The lodge- 
room, where the formal introductions took place, 
was festooned with flags and evergreens. The yel- 
low light of the chandeliers was in striking contrast 
with the white rays of two Edison lamps, that were 
artistically hung at each end of the hall. Two hand- 
some crayon portraits of Irving and Miss Terry 
were displayed above the platform at the east end of 
the room. Directly above them was the coat-of-arms 
of England, draped with the English flag and the Union 
Jack, while below and immediately over the lounge 



illuminated and framed, was presented to Irving at the Brevoort House by 
a deputation of the members, headed by A. C. Morland, Exalted Ruler 
and Secretary of the lodge; A. L. Heckler, I. Steinfeld, George Clarke, 
J. W. Hamilton, and James W. Collier, chairman of the Committee of 
Arrangements. New York City is the bead-quarters of the Elks. The 
New York lodge is No. 1 on the list of lodges, each of them, as in 
Masonry, being numbered ; though practically, I understand, the lodges in 
the other States are considered to be bi-anches in association with No. 1. 
Their club-houses in many States and cities are handsome and well-ap- 
pointed buildings. Among the anecdotes Avhich Mr. Morland related to 
Irving was the story of an " advance theatrical agent " dying suddenly in 
a strange place, and his bod}- being laid away in the local morgue. Some " 
persons happeaii:vg to hear that the only sign of identification found on the 
body was a bronze badge, with " P.B.O.E." and an elk's head upon it, the 
fact came to the knowledge of a brother Elk, who at once discovered the 
number of the man's lodge, the officers of which identified him by name ; 
and, instead of lying in a nameless grave, the poor fellow was conveyed to 
his home, in a far-distant State, and given " Christian burial " in the 
presence of his family and friends. 



350 IMPBESSIONS OF AMEBICA. 

was a bank of white immortelles, framed in flowers 
and evergreens, and bearing in the centre the words, 
" Our Guests," worked in purple flowers. The 
platforms at either end of the hall were decorated 
with rare plants and exotics, interspersed with ever- 
greens. 

In one corner of the main room supper was spread 
upon a table, the decorations of which were very dainty 
flowers interspersed with culinary trophies. About half- 
past nine o'clock the guests began to arrive and disperse 
themselves here and there about the rooms. An orches- 
tra, under the direction of Professor Maddern, furnished 
the music for promenading ; and an agreeable little 
concert of instrumental and vocal music led up to the 
entrance of the guests of the evening. " About eleven," 
says the local chronicler, " they arrived, and were 
escorted to the lodge-room, where all the other guests 
had assembled to receive them. Mr. Irving entered, 
escorting Mrs. John W. Norton, while Miss Terry was 
escorted by Mr. John A. Dillon. As they strolled 
here and there about the hall they were introduced to 
those present. Mr. Irving's countenance, when in 
repose, was rather inclined to be sombre and solemn, 
but immediately assumed a pleasant expression when 
he was introduced to the ladies and gentlemen who 
had assembled to do him honor." Mr. and Mrs. 
Howe, Mr. Wenman, and several other members of 
Irvin'g's company, w^ere present, and as one strolled 
through the rooms there was something very homelike 
in these familiar faces intermingled with the crowd. 
Says the local chronicler : — 



ST. LOUIS, CINCINNATI, ETC. 351 

Miss Terry was the soul of life and animation. When 
she was not chatting gayly with some lady or gentleman, who 
had just been presented, she walked about with her escort, and 
commented in a bright and interesting way on the decorations, 
pictures, etc., that adorned the walls. She was becomingly 
dressed in white silk, trimmed with Spanish lace, flowing 
brocade train of white and crushed straw^berry. Her only 
jewelry were gold bracelets and a pearl necklace. On her 
bosom she wore a bunch of natural flowers. 

After a half an hour or so spent in conversation and 
promenading the guests repaired to the club-room and partook 
of supper. Here the greatest sociability prevailed. Mr. 
Irving walked here and there, and conversed pleasantly and 
informally with all the people he met; while Miss Terry, 
seated in a large chair, was surrounded by a gay throng of 
young folk, and appeared the youngest and gayest of them 
all. A number of beautiful roses were taken from the table 
and presented to her by ardent admirers, for all of whom she 
had a pleasant word, and some little coquettish reply for their 
gallantry. About twelve o'clock they left the rooms, and the 
guests slowly dispersed. 

Upwards of five hundred hosts and guests were present. 
Among those present^ were Mr. and Mrs. Wm. H. Thom- 
son, Mr. and Mrs. Albert Todd, Mr. and Mrs. Gus. Ewing, 
Mr. and Mrs. C. M. Whitney, Mr. and Mrs. J. W. Norton, 
Mr. and Mrs. Jos. F. Toy, Mr. and Mrs. A. S. Aloe, Mr. and 
Mrs. Wm. Walsh, Judge McKeighan and wife, Mr. and Mrs. 
Geo. H. Small, Mr. and Mrs. A. D. Cooper, Mr. and Mrs. E. 
B. Leigh, Mr. and Mrs. H. Clay Fierce, Miss Alice B. Hart, 
Mr. and Mrs. R. B. Dakin, Mr. and Mrs. T. W. Wood, Mrs. 

^ The Irving-Terry reception, by the Elks, "Wednesday evening, was a 
notable social event. The Elks were there, of course ; but it is worthy of 
notice that, at this testimonial oflfered to two eminent members of the 
dramatic profession, the attendance of ladies represented the most exclu- 
sive and aristocratic circles of St. Louis society ; and quite a number of the 
most liberal and eminent of the clergymen were there also. " Society " 
in St. Louis has more good common-sense than in any other city in the 
Union. — Post-Dispatch, Jan. 26. 



352 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

R. E. Collins, Mrs. C. H. Tyler, Mrs. Bradford Allen, Judge 
W. C. Jones and wife, Mrs. and Mrs. A. A. Mermod, Mrs. 
Garlick, of Galveston, Rev. John Snyder, Rev. Father Betts, 
Mr. and Mrs. Home, Mr. and Mrs. E. R. Norris, Rev. Dr. 
Sonneschein, Mr. and Mrs. G. Lamar Collins, Mr. and Mrs. H. 
Clay Sexton, Miss Georgiana MacKenzie, Miss Florence Bevis, 
Miss Lizzie Bautz, Miss Julia Dean, Miss Kimball, Miss Bogy, 
Miss Lizzie Reed, Miss A dele Picot, Miss Waples, of Alton, 
Miss Francis, Miss Roland, of Danville, Ky., Miss Fallen, 
IMiss Olive Harding, Miss Agnes Farrar, Miss AV^agstaff, of 
Kansas City, Miss lone Aglar, Mr. and Mrs. Blachly, Mr. and 
Mrs. D. B. Taylor, Miss Bissell, Mr. and Mrs. F. W. Coulter, 
Miss Faircliild, Mrs. Cramer, Miss Ettie Isaacs, Mr. and Mrs. 
J. N". Xorris, Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Schnaider, Mrs. and Mrs. 
J. AV. Paramore, and Messrs. John A. Dillon, John M. Har- 
ney, Charles R. Pope, Dr. P. S. OTveilly, D. R. Francis Fred 
Schmiding, John H. Overall, P. Short, B. H. Engelke, R. 
Maddern, A. F. Shapleigh, tTr., A. C. Bernays, J. J. Kerns, 
R. W. Himies, H. A. Diamant, W. C. Steigers, John G. Chand- 
ler, R. D. Delano, C. M. Napton, W. Clones, L. A. Clark, 

C. D. Colman, L. D. Picot, H. L. Haydel, I. R. Adams, F. A. 
Beusberg, C. R. Chambers, W. C. Coppleston, John P. Ellis, 
E. P. Andrews, Louis H. Jones, James H. Falser, Geo. R. 
Kirgin, Gideon Bantz, John McHenry, Chas. E. Ware, N. M. 
Ludlow, A. G. Thompson, Col. John M. Bacon, J. L. Isaacs, 
T. J. Bartholow, Philip Brockman, R. Harbison, A. L. Berry, 
David Davison, F. W. Humphrey, Chas. F. Joy, E. V. Walsh, 
G. W. Blachly, John J. Meeker, Atwood Vane, David Prince, 
A. C. Stocking, H. I). Wilson, C. P. Mason, Henry Ames, H. 
J. McKellops, J. N. Norris, M. J. Steinberg, C. H. Buck, Jr., 

D. B. Dakin, Gaston Meslier, E. W. Lansing, Estill McHenry, 
Dr. T. E. Holland, R. W. Goisan, W. H. Horner, R. J. Delano, 
Ernest Albert, John ,T. Pierson, E. B. Leigh, D. H. Steigers, 
John A. Scholten, Mr. Sands and ladies, A. C. Bernays and 
lady, C. D. Johnson, Louis McCall, Arthur H. Merrill, R. W. 
Shapleigh, D. R. Francis, Charles Wezler, James Hopkins, F. 
L. Ridgely, J. B. Greensfelder, Meyer Goldsmith, Henry W. 
Moore. 



Sr. LOUIS, CINCINNATI, ETC. 353 

A newspaper correspondent telegraphed to a Chicago 
journal the startling information that Irving w^s 
dissatisfied with this entertainment, and left early. 
This was probably the reporter's sly way of compli- 
menting Chicago. The rivalry between tliese two 
cities is often humorously illustrated in the press. St. 
Louis is the elder and most historical city of the two : 
but Chicago is the most prosperous, and has, no 
doubt, the greatest future. St. Louis, nevertheless, 
claims to have a population of nearly 500,000; it 
boasts double the park area of JSTew York, and stands 
"second only to Philadelphia in point of territory 
devoted to public recreation." 



II. 

Two weeks were spent between St. Louis, Cincinnati, 
Indianapolis, and Columbus. The New York reper- 
toire was played with excellent results in every way. 

"Indianapolis and Columbus," said Irving, "are 
evidently behind St. Louis and Cincinnati In their 
appreciation of the arts ; though I have no reason to 
complain, nor has Miss Terry. They came to the 
theatre in large numbers, were most excellent 
audiences, cordial in their reception of us, and flat- 
tering in their aj^plause ; but in walking through 
their streets one could not help seeing that there wis 
a good deal too much of the ^ Dime-Museum ' busi- 
ness in these places for art generally to flourish liber- 
ally at present. 'The Fat Lady, ' ' The Two-headed 
Pig,' ' The Tattooed Man,' and ' The Wdd Men of the 



354 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Woods,' appear to have a great hold on Indianapolis and 
Columbus. Indeed, they make a fight for it against the 
theatres, even in St. Louis and Cincinnati. You remem- 
ber the great wide street, in Birmingham, called the Bull 
ring? Well, the show-streets of these cities remind me 
of a concentrated Bull ring in Birmingham, where ^ Liv- 
ing Wonders,' 'The Wizard of the North,' and 'The 
Fortune-Telling Pony,' are always, more or less, chal- 
lenging public attention. I believe Ball, the leader of 
our orchestra, had some special trouble at Indianapolis. 
The violoncello, for example, had only two strings. 
Ball, on the second night, chaffingly said, 'I suppose 
you will consider two strings sufficient for to-night ? ' — 
' No,' was the reply ; ' I stick to three, on principle.' " 

*' Did you hear about the manager who gave the extra 
musicians in his orchestra something less than usual," 
I asked, " because, as he said, they would see you for 
nothing, and that should be considered when every seat 
was taken ? At night they complained ; they said, ' You 
have swindled us ; we have not seen Irving act at all ; 
we have only seen him at rehearsal. We have been 
playing under the stage, at the back of it, behind 
flats, or smothered up at the wings, where we could see 
nothing, and you have got to give us our full pay.' " 

It is quite new in American theatres for the orchestra 
to be put into such frequent requisition behind the 
scenes, as is the case in Irving's representations. The 
special engagement of a tenor (Mr. J. Robertson) to 
sing the ballad in " JNIuch Ado " is an unheard-of extrava- 
gance. Mr. Robertson also gave very valuable assistance 
in the quartettes and choruses introduced with fine effect 



ST. LOUIS, CINCINNATI, ETC. 355 

in "The Merchant," "The Bells," and other plays; 
which reminds me that among the saddening incidents 
of the tour were the sudden recall to England of ]Mr. 
Johnson, the low comedian, to the sick-bed of his wife ; 
and the withdrawal of Mr. Norman Forbes from the 
cast of "The Merchant," through illness. We left 
Forbes at one of the cities, with a serious attack of 
rheumatic fever. The " under-studies " had to be 
employed, necessitating many new rehearsals. Mr. 
Howe, at a moment's notice, undertook tlie part of 
Dogberry, and j^layed it admirably ; while Mr. Carter 
took the part of Richard in "Louis XL," and Mr. 
Harbury gave extra and efficient service in the grave- 
yard scene in "Hamlet." Mr. Andrews was cast for 
the part of Lancelot in " The Merchant," replacing 
Mr. Johnson, and Mr. Lyndal played Claudio in 
" Much Ado " in such a way as to entitle him to the 
compliments of Irving, which were generously and 
ungrudgingly given. 

"Cincinnati," said Irving, "has great aims in the 
direction of art. It has a grand public hall, endowed 
by a local philanthropist, in which it gives musical, 
operatic, and dramatic festivals. This year the opera oc- 
cupies its enormous stage. The Festival Committee gave 
me a dinner at the Queen City Club. It was a most 
interesting reunion.^ The city is very picturesque, I 

iThe Dramatic Festival Association tendered a dinner to Mr. Henry 
Irving, at the Queen City Club-rooms, last evening, after the great actor's 
final performance at the Grand Opera House. There were present, besides 
the distinguished guest. Governor Noyes, e.v-president of the association : 
Manager Henry E. Abbey ; Colonel Miles, city dramatic director ; Secre- 
tary Hall, Mr. Halstead, Judge Force, Colonel Dayton, Mr. Alter, Mr 



356 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

should say, if one could only have seen it ; but it was 
choked with snow, and in a continual mist or fog. The 
ice in the river broke up before we left, — a wonderful 
sight it was : a great rising flood, filled with ice and snow, 
^ — along the wharves silent ships, and steamers, — 
surprising to look down upon from the hills. As the 
city has grown the people have had to build on the 
heights, and the street-cars are hauled up on elevators 
— you drive your carriage upon these platforms and 
are raised to the roads above, — it is something like 
going up in a balloon. A mist hung over the river, 



Huntington, Mr. J. W. Miller, Mr. Nat. H. Davis, Mr. Devereux,]Mr. Chat- 
field, Mr. Bram Stoker, manager for Mr. Irving; Mr. Wetherby, Mr. 
Stevens, Copleston, agent of Mr. Abbey ; Mr. Charles Taft, Mr. Leonard, 
Colonel Markbreit, Mr. Will. Carlisle, ISIr. Frank Alter, and others, to the 
number of thirty or more. The tables were elegantly decorated, and the 
7nenu was, of course, of the choicest and most fastidious description. Gov- 
ernor Noyes introduced Mr. Irving to those present in his usual happy 
manner, alluded to the great pleasure and benefit the "Paris of America " 
had enjoyed from his brief sojourn among us, and significantly expressed 
the hope that he might soon return to us. Mr. Irving responded to the 
enthusiastic greeting which followed Governor Noyes's introduction in a 
manner which won all hearts, by its sensible and modest sincerity. He 
had been most favorably impressed by his audiences in Cincinnati, finding 
them keenly responsive and deeply attentive. Allusion had been made to 
the operatic and other festivals; but he was not yet persuaded that the 
emulation excited between the artists taking part in them might not have a 
flavor of the cockpit about it. He was much more inclined to believe in 
the benefit of sound, permanent dramatic enterprise here, a school of the 
drama, Avith a theatre and stock company attached, whence might origi- 
nate influences of deep and permanent good to the community and countiy. 
He paid a high compliment to the quickness and ready grasp of an idea by 
Americans, and concluded with a graceful acknowledgment of the general 
and particular courtesies he had met with in Cincinnati, not forgetting the 
press. Remarks were also made by Judge Force and Mr. Halstead, the 
latter alluding, with much feeling, to some of Cincinnati's peculiar claims 
to the title of ** Paris of America." — Cincinnati News- Journal, Feb. 3, 
1884. 



ST. LOUIS, CINCINNATI, ETC. 357 

the water was rising rapidly, and people were express- 
ing fears that the place would be flooded, as it had been 
a year or two previously.^ There is a German quarter. 
It is called ' Germany,' and has all the characteristics 

1 Irving saw the beginning of one of the periodical disasters to which 
Cincinnati is subjected, — the overflowing of the Ohio. Within a few days 
after his visit the city was inundated, thousands of people were homeless, 
entire families flying from their homes, their houses wrecked, their property 
floating down the river. Many lives were lost up and down stream. Great 
floods occurred in other districts, the busy manufacturing city of Pittsburg 
being among the most serious suff'erei'S. Cincinnati had hardly recovered 
from the floods, and thought out new devices for dealing with any future 
trouble of the kind, when she was visited with another disaster, — a great 
and fatal riot. All countries have their public abuses, their governmental 
shortcomings. England has plenty of them; the administration of the 
law in America is far from perfect. As long as judges are elected by 
popular vote so long will there be serious miscarriages of justice; so long 
as juries can be packed, intimidated, and bribed, so long will the jury sys- 
tem be found defective. Such glaring instances of malfeasance and failui-e 
in the administration of justice had, from time to time, occurred at Cin- 
cinnati that (upon the principle that it is the last straw that breaks the 
camel's back), when " another notorious murderer was let off," the popu- 
lace arose, attacked the jail where a company of other ruffians were im- 
pi-isoned, with a view to taking the law into their own hands. The militia 
were called out, and fired into the rioters. Many persons were killed and 
wounded before order could be restored. The press of the countiy, while 
regretting the breach of the peace and the loss of life, generally insist 
upon the moral that governments must not look for people to respect the 
law in face of corruption in high places and notorious compromises with 
thieves and murderers. *' The objective point of the mob," wrote the 
special correspondent of the " New York Sun," " was the jail, and the 
murderers it contained, whom they meant to hang. Twenty-three mur- 
derers are in that jail, none of whom have had a trial, except William 
Hugh, who is to be hanged; and Emil Trompeter, who has had two trials, 
and is to have a third. In the list are William liartnett, who murdered 
his wife with an axe ; Joe Palmer, the negro confederate of William Ber- 
ner in murdering William Kirk, and Allen Ingalls and Ben Johnson, the 
Avondale negro burkers. In addition to these there are several murderers 
out on bail and walking the streets. They have not been tried, though the 
murders for which they were indicted were committed months ago." The 
" New York Herald," editorially discussing " the results of the riot," says 
that, in the first place, " no jury in that city for some time to come will 



358 IMPUESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

of the Fatherland in its beer-gardens, concert-rooms, 
theatres, and general mode of life. Next to the native 
Americans the Germans are the most influential people. 
They have several newspapers printed in their own 
language, and in the regular German type. ^ The sud- 

outrage justice and public decency by making a mockery of murder 
trials," and that, " in the next place, the people of Cincinnati have be- 
come deeply impressed with the importance of divorcing partisan politics 
from the administration of justice and municipal affairs generally. Before 
the echoes of the riot have died away they have started a citizens' move- 
ment, with the determination to put in the field and elect at the coming 
mimicipal election candidates not identified with either party machine, but 
representative of the highest order of citizenship. When this is done there 
will be a more effective administration of laAV and justice and a reform ot 
abuses which contributed, directly or indirectly, in no small degree, to the 
disasti'ous events of the past few days." 

1 " Louis XI.," " Charles the First," *' The Merchant of Venice," " The 
Bells," and " The Lyons Mail," drew great and fashionable houses at Cin- 
cinnati, and the criticisms in the native press and in the German news- 
papers were written in a spirit of cordiality, much of it desci'iptive, and ail 
of it recognizing the possibilities of a speedy reformation in the existing 
method of representing the classic drama in the West. The following 
ti-anslation of some of the most prominent passages in a lengthy criticism 
of " The Merchant of Venice " is from " Tagliches Cincinnati Volksblatt," 
one of the principal German newspapers of the district : — 

" The court-scene is a masterpiece, and is filled with so many details 
that the spectator follows the action with lively interest, and imagines 
himself in a real court of law. The decoration of the last act, a 
wonderful park scene, with moonlight, was ravishing, and the madrigals 
behind the scene were charmingly melodious, and were also excellently 
sung ; in a word, one saw a great performance of * The Merchant of 
Venice,' and not only Mr. Irving, as Shylock, or Miss Terry, as Portia. 
By that we do not mean to say that Henry Irving's performance was less 
great ; on the contrary, he confirmed and fortified, through his Shylock, 
the judgment we pronounced upon his * Louis XL' His reading is entirely 
the same as Doring's, who ranked as the best Shylock in Germany, and 
who has not yet found a successor. It is the covetous, vindictive Jew ; 
but he is rather an object of pity than of scorn. It was the Jew whose 
passionate temperament and inexorable vengeance naturally seized upon 
the first opportunity of gratifying his hatred towards the Christians, who 
heaped mockeries, insults, and injustice upon him, particularly Antonio^ 



ST. LOUIS, CINCINNATI, ETC. 359 

den rises of the Ohio appear to be the chief drawback. 
They are very pliilosophical about it, and try to con- 
sole themselves on the ground that, if they suffer from 
water, they have not been burned out, as some other 
cities have. Cincinnati has a noble ambition : it aims 
at becoming a great centre of culture, more particu- 
larly in art and science. It is making a magnificent 
start in its Schools of Design, its art leagues, its Univer- 
sity, and the Museum which is being built in Eden 
Park. I was struck with an incident related to me by 
a friend of yours. One of the newspaper offices was 
burned down. The fire took place while the paper was 
at press. Seeing that it was impossible to save the 
machinery they put on the highest speed and worked 
off the sheets until the place was too hot to hold them ; 
and the men stepped out with the printed sheets 
almost as the ceiling fell in upon the machinery. By 
the aid of a neighbor, and the presses of a rival who 
had failed, they came out the next day with a full re- 
port of the calamity, in which, I believe, some lives 



who treated him with the utmost scorn. This was the Jew Shakespeare 
drew, played by Mr. Irving with the refinement of an artist and the sharp 
observance of a philologist. . . . His facial expression is mobile and 
most expressive . . . and his speech has only just the accent by which 
the Jews of that class ai'e known. His acting in the first scene, in the 
scene with Tubal, and, above all, in the court-scene (pai'ticularly the pass- 
ing from cruel, passionate joy to the consciousness of his own torpid 
despair) , Avas the true work of a great actor. . . . Miss Ellen Terry, 
who plays Portia, was reported from other towns where she had appeared 
to be a great actress : the audience was, therefore, highly expectant. 
. . . She took the public from first to last by storm. . . . She is 
one of those endowed actresses, who shine so completely in the char- 
acter they represent that the spectator forgets the actress, and only sees 
the person represented in the piece." 



360 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

were lost. An example of American enterprise that, 
eh? 

"At Colnmbus I went to the State House, ^ while 
the General Assembly and Senate were sitting. If one 
were a politician, I can imagine nothing more interest- 
ing than to study the details of the American system of 
government, the question of State rights, and other feat- 
ures of the general administration. Each State seems 
very distinct and independent of the other. For in- 
stance, some States and cities have special laws of their 
own, and many complications which seem inexplicable 
would be more easily explained if this were more 
understood. It is not the government of the United 
States which can control all matters ; it is the State 
which sometimes plays the principal part. I did 
not quite understand that until recently. For in- 
stance, in New York city or State there is a law 
giving certain privileges to ticket-speculators ; while 
at Philadelpliia, and at Boston, I believe, there is 
a law against speculators selling tickets on the side- 
walks. Talking upon this subject to a lawyer in Balti- 
more, he told me that baggage-smashing on the rail- 
roads had reached such a pitch that a State law had 
been passed in Maryland making it a misdemeanor. 

1 Mr. Henry Irving, in remembrance of distinguished courtesies shownhim 
while in the East by the lion. Thomas Donaldson, called upon his father. 
Major Donaldson, to-day. During the afternoon, in company with Mr, 
Donaldson, Mr. Ii-ving called upon various gentlemen, and was introduced 
to a great many members of the General Assembly in the House and Sen- 
ate. He received many warm expressions touching the pleasure he gave 
our citizens in " The Bells," at Comstock's Opera House. During their 
stay in the State House Mr. Irving was introduced to Governor Iloadly 
and the State officers. — Columbus Dispatch, F«b. 3. 



ST. LOUIS, CINCINNATI, ETC. 3G1 

English, and indeed European, travellers generally, who 
have had no experience of America, can have no con- 
ception of the way in which baggage is treated ; it seems 
to me as if the intention often is really to stave in 
trunks and boxes. The credulous Britisher, who should 
put on his trunk, 'This side up, with care,' would 
have a fit if he saw the porter throw it down with a 
crash on the other side, and then pile a ton or two 
of the heaviest kind of merchandise upon it. When 
you think of the respect with which a traveller's trunks 
are treated on European railways, it is startling to en- 
counter a general sort of conspiracy here to break them 
up, and in a country which has invented the best system 
of ' expressing ' and delivering baggage known to modern 
travel, — to me this is incomprehensible. 

"From Columbus we went back to Chicago, the first 
of our return visits. I felt quite at home again at the 
Grand Pacific Hotel, — one of the finest and most com- 
fortable houses of the entire tour. The colored attend- 
ant, Walter, who is told off for my service, is the most 
intelligent and courteous fellow I have ever met in the 
position he holds. Singularly handsome, too, is he 
not ? Indeed one is struck with the physical beauty of 
some of these half-breeds, mulattoes, Creoles — won- 
derful fellows ! I remember that Sala describes the 
Grand Pacific as 'Wonder Number One' amono: the 
marvels of Chicago, and the newspaper press as 
'Wonder Number Two.' I should put the press first, 
— did you ever see such papers as the Sunday journals ? 
Sixteen to twenty and twenty-four pages, — why, it's 
marvellous how they get the matter for them together ! 



362 niPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

One of the St. Louis papers I noticed was also a very 
large one. What a deftness of allusion and adaptation 
of events to personal criticism there is in these western 
journals ! The Standard oil affair, — I don't know the 
merits of it; but charges of unfairness in connection 
with the enterprise are before the public. Somebody 
has sent me this paragraph about it, from the 'Co- 
lumbus Times ' : — 

" The members of the General Assembly who looked upon 
the Standard oil, when it flowed with unction in the recent 
senatorial struggle, might get a few points on the effects of the 
remorse of conscience by seeing Henry Irving in ^ The Bells.' 

Tlattering, eh?" 



A HOLIDAY AT NIAGARA. 363 



xvni. 

CHIEFLY CONCERNING A HOLIDAY AT 
NIAGARA. 

The Return Visit to Chicago — "Welcomed Back again — Farewell Speech — 
Niagara in the Winter — A Sensation at the Hotel — Requisitioning ad- 
jacent Towns for Chickens and Turkeys — Ira Aldridge and a Colored 
Dramatic Club — A Blizzard from the North-west — The Scene of 
Webb's Death — "A great Stage-manager, Nature " — Life and Death 
of " The Hermit of Niagara " — A Fatal Picnic — The Lyceum Com- 
pany at Dinner — Mr. Howe proposes a Toast — Terriss meets with an 
Accident that recalls a Romantic Tragedy. 

I. 

" The fact of Mr. Irving and Miss Terry and their 
company attracting an audience to fill Haverly's 
Theatre on so speedy a return after leaving us, and 
that, too, following a rugged strain of grand opera," 
said the "Chicago Inter-Ocean," of February 12, 
"may be accepted as conclusive evidence of genuine 
appreciation and admiration of their vrorth. This 
testimony is much strengthened by the fact that the 
plays presented were those most frequently seen during 
the original engagements, — 'The Bells,' and 'The 
Belle's Stratagem,' — for, though it is thought Mr. 
Irving is seen to exceptional advantage as Mathias, 
mere curiosity would have held off to see him in a new 
character. It was a generous and highly gratifying 
welcome back ; and it is certainly a great pleasure, as 
well as an artistic privilege worthy to be acknowledged. 



364 IMFBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

that we have Mr. Irving and hie superb surroundings 
again before us. We are in no danger of seeing too 
much of this sort of work." 

'* Hamlet" and "Much Ado" were produced for 
the first time at Chicago during tliis second season. 
Both excited genuine interest, and were received with 
as much favor by audiences and critics as his previous 
work. Only two weeks had intervened between his 
first and second visit. More money was paid at the 
doors of Haverly's during the week than had gone 
into the treasury for a week of grand opera. The 
programme for the last night was " jNIuch Ado," and 
the recitation of Hood's "Eugene Aram." After en- 
thusiastic calls for Irving and Miss Terr}^, at the close 
of the comedy, there were cries of "Speech ! Speech !" 
Irving, in evening dress for the recitation, presently 
responded to the wishes of his audience. He said he 
would be made of sterner s tuff — and he was glad 
that such was not the case — if he failed to feel pro- 
foundly the welcome that had been accorded him in 
Chicaoro. Not one shadow had fallen across the 
brightness of that welcome ; there was not a jarring 
note in the generous applause that had greeted the 
company's efforts. The encouragement had been 
most o-rateful, and it had urs^ed himself and his asso- 
elates to do their best work. He thanked the press 
of the city for overlooking shortcomings, and for rec- 
ognizing so generously what they found to be good. 
The notices had been most eloquent and sympathetic. 
He wished to thank the audience on behalf of his 
associates, and particularly on behalf of Miss Ellen 



. A HOLIDAY AT NIAGARA. 365 

Terry, whose great gifts had been so quickly recog- 
nized. If he might be permitted to say so in pubHc, 
he himself heartily joined in their appreciation of Miss 
Terry's work. Parting was "a sweet sorrow," and the 
sweet part of his leave-taking was in expressing his 
deep sense of Chicago's great welcome. Again he 
would say good-by to every one ; but he hoped circum- 
stances w^ouJd make it possible to meet a Chicago 
audience in the future, and he trusted that " you will 
remember us as we will surely remember you." 

"The speaker," says the "Tribune," "was frequently 
interrupted by applause, his reference to Miss Terry 
especially awakening enthusiasm. He then recited 
* Eugene Aram's Dream' with fine effect, and after 
inducing him to respond to a fifth and last recall the 
audience dispersed." 

II. 

On the following Monday and Tuesday the company 
appeared for two nights at Detroit,^ the chief city of 
Michigan, to large and most friendly audiences. I 
was in New York at this time, and had arranged to 

1 Detroit is a handsome and populous city on the hanks of a nohle river 
that connects Lake Erie and St. Clair. The company gave two perform- 
ances at Whitney's Opera House, to large audiences, by whom they were 
heartily received. The " Post and Tribune " contained long and com- 
plimentary notices of the plays and the actors, with lists of the principal 
people in the audiences. " The coming of Mi-. Irving and Miss Terr}'," it 
says, " was a great event in dramatic circles here, and has long been 
looked forward to with expectancy. The audience that greeted them com- 
pletely filled the house, every seat being occupied, while many were content 
to stand during the entire performance. It was also a fashionable audience, 
in the fullest sense of the word, all of Detroit's most pronounced society 
people being there." 



366 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA, 

meet Irving, Miss Terry, and a few friends, at Niagara, 
on Wednesday. "If Abbey is agreeable, I shall give 
the company a holiday, so that they can go to Niagara,^ 
spend the day, and sleep in Toronto at night. It will 
do us all good." Abbey was agreeable, and Wednes- 
day, February 20, was one of the most memorable 
days of the tour. 

I travelled from New York by the West Shore road, 
an admirably equipped railway (and having at Syra- 
cuse the most picturesque and one of the finest stations 
in America), to meet my friends at the Falls. At 
two o'clock, on Tuesday, I arrived on the Canadian side 
of the river. The country was covered with snow, 
but a thaw had set in during the morning. Driv- 
ing from the railway station the scene was wild, weird, 
and impressive. The steep banks of the Niagara river 
were seamed and furrowed with ice and snow. The 
American side of the ravine was ploughed by the 
weather into ridges. One might say the river banks 
were corrugated, cracked, grooved into strange lines, 

iThe " Niagara Falls Courier " has an interesting article on the many 
orthographical changes of the name of Niagara. In 1687 it was written 
Oniogoragn. In 1686 Gov. Dongan appeared uncertain about it and spelled 
it Onniagcro, Onyagara, and Onyagro. The French, in 1638 to 1709, wrote 
it Niaguro, Onyagai-e, Onyagra and Oneygra. Philip Livingston wrote in 
1720 to 1730 Octjagara, Jagcra, and Yagerah, and Schuyler and Livingston, 
Commissioners of Indian Affairs, wi-ote it in 1720 Onjagerae, Ocniagara, etc. 
In 1721 it was written Onjagora, Oniagara, and accidentally, probably, 
Niagara, as at present. Lieut. Lindsay wrote it Niagara in 1751. So did 
Capt. De Lancey (son of Gov. De Lancey), who was an officer in the 
English army that captured Fort Niagara from the French in 1759. 
" These pioneers," says the local journalist, " may, however, be excused in 
view of the fact — as will be attested by post-masters — that some letter- 
writers of to-day seem quite as undecided about the orthography of this 
world-wide familiar name." 



A HOLIDAY AT NIAGARA. 367 

every channel ribbed with ice. Here and there tiny 
falls, that had mimicked the colossal ones beyond, 
were frozen into columns. Others had been con- 
verted into pillars that seemed to be supporting 
white, ghost-like figures. Further on there was a 
cluster of fountains gushing out of the rocks beneath a 
number of mills, the wheels of which they had turned 
on their way to the river. These waters leaped down 
some fifty or sixty feet into great ice-bowls. You 
would think they had found an outlet other than the 
river but for its discoloration at the base of the 
great natural urns, or bowls, into which they fell. 
There were ponderous heaps of ice at the bed of the 
American falls. A section of them was literally 
frozen into a curious mass of icicles. The ice was not 
bright, but had a dull, woolly appearance. Coming 
upon the two great falls at a slight bend of the river 
you see them both at once. On this day they were 
almost enveloped in spray. Our horses splashed 
through thawing snow, and picked their way over a 
road broken up with scoriated ice and flooded with water. 
A strong, but not a cold, wind blew in our faces, 
and covered us with spray. The water was pouring 
down the abyss in greater masses it seemed to me 
than usual ; and this was my third visit to Niagara. I 
had seen the falls in summer and autumn. Their winter 
aspect had not the fascinating charm of the softer periods 
of the year, when the banks are green, and the leaves 
are rustling on the trees of the islands. The Clifton 
House was closed. The balconies, upon which merry 
parties are sitting and chatting in summer evenings, 



368 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

were empty. Even the Prospect House looked chilly. 
The flood fell into its awful gulf with a dull, thudding 
boom, and the rapids above were white and angry. 

I wondered what Irving would think of the scene. 
Some people profess that they are disappointed with 
the first sight of Niagara. There are also people who 
look upon the ocean without surprise ; and some who 
see the curtain go up on a great play, or a grand 
opera, for the first time in their lives, without experi- 
encing one throb of the sensation which Bulwer, in 
one of his novels, describes with pathetic eloquence. 
The Rev. Dr. Thomas, a popular preaclier in the 
Prairie city, went to his first play while Irving was 
at Chicago, and was greatly impressed ; although he 
half confessed that, on the whole, he liked a good 
lecture quite as well. A colored man and his wife, at 
Philadelphia, told me they had always considered the 
play wicked, and would never have thought to go to 
a theatre had not one of their clergymen done so. 
" But," said the husband, "I see noffin' wicked nor 
wrong, and it did my heart good to see all dem white 
folk bowing to de colored gentleman and making much 
of him." It was the casket scene in "The Merchant'' 
that had most delighted these people. 

Almost the first thing I did on arriving at Niagara 
was to send Irvino: a teles^ram, asking' if he had settled 
where to stay, advising him that for a brief visit the 
Prospect House was most conveniently placed for see- 
ing the falls. ]\Iy response was a request for rooms. 
This was followed by an inquiry if the house could 
provide a dinner for seventy ; and from that moment I 



A HOLIDAY AT NIAGARA. 3G9 

found myself actively engaged, not in reviving my 
former recollections of Niagara, but in preparing to 
receive the Irving Company. The landlord of the 
Prospect House is a land-owner in Manitoba. He 
was looking after his interests in those distant regions. 
The landlady, a bright, clever woman of business, 
however, undertook to "run the dinner." 

" The house is partially closed, as you know," she 
said, " and it is small. We have only a few servants 
during the winter, and it is difficult to get provisions 
at short notice. But we have the Western Union tele- 
graph in the house, and a telephone. We will do our 
best." 

The intelligent colored waiter found it impossible to 
seat seventy persons in the dining-room. 

" They must dine at twice," he said ; " that's the 
only chance ; no help for it." 

It was night before the order for dinner was really 
closed and settled, many telegrams passing between 
Detroit and Niagara ; and, as I found to my consterna- 
tion, between Niagara and many adjacent towns. 

" Not a turkey nor a chicken to be got for love or 
money," said the landlady. " I have telegraphed and 
telephoned the whole neighborhood, — just going to try 
Buffalo, as a last resort. You see the hotels here are 
closed, and it is very quiet in the winter." 

" As good a dinner as can be provided," was one of 
Stoker's latest telegrams, "and it must be ready at half- 
past three to the minute." 

The excitement at the Prospect House was tremen- 
dous. The falls were quite discounted. They were of 



370 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

no moment for the time being, compared with the ques- 
tion of turkeys and the seating of the coming guests. 

" You have beef, mutton, ham, you say?" 

"Yes, and we can make some excellent soup, — a 
nice lot offish has come in from Toronto, lake fish, — 
but turkeys, no; chickens, no; though I have tele- 
graphed everywhere and offered any price for them. 
Ah, if we had only known two days ago ! " said the 
landlady. 

" Never mind, let it be a plain English dinner, horse- 
radish sauce with the beef, — can you manage that ? " 

" Yes ! Oh, yes ! " 

" And boiled legs of mutton, eh?" 

"Yes, with caper-sauce." 

" Capital. And what do you say to plum-pudding ? " 

" I fear there will not be time to stone the raisins ; 
but I'll telephone into the town at once and see." 

While she was gone I surveyed the dining-room 
once more. " If you moved the stove, and placed 
forms against the walls, instead of chairs, how would 
that be ? " I asked. 

It was a great problem, this. My colored ally and 
his two assistants set to measuring with a foot-rule. 
They had their woolly heads together when I looked in 
upon them an hour later. 

" Yes, I believe it can be done," said the chief waiter ; 
and before midnight the tables were arranged, the stove 
cleared out, and the room almost ready for the feasters. 
As he was leaving for the night he said, " The people 
of my race honor Mr. Irving. He knew our great 
actor, Ira Aldridge. There was a letter from ]Mr. 



A HOLIDAY AT NIAGARA. 371 

Irving about him, and a Dramatic Club started by our 
folk in the New York papers. Rely on me, sir, to 
have this dinner a success."^ 



1 The following is the con-espondenee alluded lo : — 

<< New York, Jan. 20, 1884. 
*' Mit. Irving : — 

" Dear Sir, — The creation and development of a taste for true dra- 
matic art among the colored citizens of culture in New York city, having 
been long regarded as a necessity to their intellectual growth, a number 
of ladies and gentlemen, selected for their evidences of dramatic ability, 
which they have shown from time to time, met on the evening of January 7, 
and perfected the organization of the ' Irving Dramatic Club.' In appris- 
ing you of this fact we beg leave to assure you, sir, that, in selecting your 
name for the.title of our club, we did not choose it because we felt we were 
conferring an honor, — far from it,— for we well know that the mere naming 
of an amateur club could add nothing to the lustre of the laurels so de- 
servedly won by one Avho so fittingly represents as yourself all that is 
noble and grand in dramatic art. But, having in our mind the record of 
past events, we could not fail to recognize that the English stage and its 
representatives were but the synonyms of equity and justice. 

*' Thus, in searching for a patron, we naturally reverted to that source 
from which our efforts were mostly to be regarded with favor ; and, acting 
upon this impulse, Ave could think of no name that would be a greater 
incentive to conscientious and praiseworthy effort than that of Irving. 

" Hoping that this action will meet with your approval, we remain, with 
best wishes for your health and prosperity, respectfully yours, 

"IRVING DRAMATIC CLUB. 

" Charles G. Bowser, Fres't. 
"W. II. A. Moore, Sec\j." 

" St. Louis, Jan. 26, 1884. 
"Dear Sir,— I have received your letter of the 20th, and it gives me 
great pleasure to have my name associated with so gratifying an intel- 
lectual movement among the colored citizens of New York as the estab- 
lishment of a Dramatic Club. Art is of no country, and has no nationality. 
Europe is deeply indebted to the artistic culture of the great colored people 
of the Eastern World, and there is promise of a future for your race, in 
the fact that you have ceased to feel the disabilities of color in your associ- 
ation with your white fellow-citizens. I once had the pleasure of knowing 
a very famous actor of your race,— Ira Aldridge. I wish for your club a 
prosperous career, and beg to subscribe myself, 

"Yours truly, HENRY IRVING." 



372 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA, 



III. 

Wednesday morning was ushered in with a blizzard 
from the north-west. The roads that had been slushy 
the day before were hard as adamant. There was ice in 
the wind. The air was keen as a knife. A traveller who 
had come in from Manitoba said that durino^ the nio^ht 
it was " as much as your life was worth to pass from one 
car to another." Towards noon the weather moderated. 
The sun came out, the wind changed, the spray from 
the falls fell into the river. A rainbow stretched its 
luminous arch over the American falls. 

"I have often thought," I said to Irving," during this 
tour, how surprised any English traveller who knew 
London well would be, if he encountered the Lyceum 
Company by accident at some wayside American depot, 
not knowing of this visit to the States." 

"Yes," he said, "do you remember the people at 
Amsterdam, in Holland, who followed us in amaze- 
ment to the hotel there, one of them, a German, making 
a bet about us, the others ridiculing the idea that I 
could be out of London, when he had seen me acting 
there a few days before ? " 

We were on our w^ay to the falls, driving in a close 
carriage, Irving, Miss Terry, and myself, and I think 
we talked on general topics a little, while they were 
trying to take in the approaches to the great scene of 
all. 

" Toole and his dear boy, Frank, lost their way, one 
night, about here," said Irving. " I remember his tell- 



A HOLIDAY AT NIAGARA. 373 

ing me of it — couldn't get a carriage — were belated, 
I remember. There was no fence to the river then, I 
expect, — a dangerous place to lose your way in. How 
weird it looks I " 

" Oh, there are the falls ! " Miss Terry exclaimed, 
looking through the glass window in front of us. 
" Surely ! Yes, indeed ! There they are ! How won- 
derful ! " 

I had told the driver to pull up at the bend of the 
river, where we should get the first view of them. 
Irving turned to look. 

"Drive on," I said, and in a few minutes we pulled 
up in full view of both falls. 

" Very marvellous ! " said Irving. " Do you see 
those gulls sailing through the spray ? How regularly 
the water comes over ! It hardly looks like water, — 
there seems to be no variety in its grand, solid-like 
roll ; and, do you notice, in parts it curls like long, 
broken ringlets, curls and ripples, but is always the 
same? What a power it suggests! Of course, the 
color will vary in the light. It is blue and green in 
the summer, I suppose ; now it is yellowish here and 
there, and grey. There have been great floods above, 
— yonder are the rapids above the falls, I suppose? 
How wonderfully the waters come leaping along, — 
like an angry sea ! " 

He stood for some time watching the scene, and 
noting everything that struck him. Miss Terry joined 
some members of the company, and went driving. 
Later a party of us went to the rapids and the whirl- 
pool, where Webb was drowned. Irving discussed the 



374 IMPEESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

fatal feat, for a long time, with one of the men who 
saw the swimmer take his courageous header and go 
bounding through the rapids. 

" It was there where he disappeared," said the man, 
pointing to a spot where the waters appeared to leap as 
if clearing an obstruction ; " he dived, intending to go 
through that wave, and never was seen again alive. It 
is believed his head struck a sunken rock there, which 
stunned him." 

Irving stood for a long time looking at this part of 
the river, discussing the various theories as to its 
depth. "A bokl fellow I " he exclaimed, as he left the 
place ; " he deserved to get through it. Imagine the 
coolness, the daring of it ! He takes a quiet dinner, it 
seems, at his hotel, rests a little, then hires a boat, 
rows to the place where the rapids fairly begin, strips 
and dives into this awful torrent, — a great soul, sir, 
any man who has the nerve for such an enterprise I " 

We walked back to the falls, and on our return ob- 
served a great change in the color of the scene. 

" Quite a transformation in its way, is it not ? " said 
Irving ; " let us take in the picture, as a painter might. 
The horizon, you see, is a bluish-purple ; the Canadian 
falls have a grayish-blue tint, except where the positive 
golden yellow of the water comes in ; then, as it 
plunges below, the foam is of a creamy whiteness ; the 
mist and spray rise up a warmish-gray in the half- 
shaded sunlight ; the snowy rocks are white against it. 
The sun is about to set, I suppose, and these are some 
of its premonitory colors. The river, you see, is now 
a deep blue, — it was muddy-looking this morning, — 



A HOLIDAY AT NIAGARA. 375 

and the trees on the banks are a warm greyish-brown. 
Beyond the American falls, above there, where it is like 
a lake, the white houses are whiter still, the red ones 
redder, and the country looks as if it had quite changed 
its atmosphere. A great stage-manager. Nature ! What 
wonders can be done with effective lighting ! " 

Then, turning away to go into the house, he said, 
" Do you remember the lighting of the garden scene in 
'Romeo and Juliet,' — the change from sunset to night, 
from sunset to moonlight, from moonlight to morning, 
and the motion of the sunlit trees, as if a zephyr had 
touched them ? " 

"I do, indeed I" 

"Well, let us talk of something else. Niagara 
must offer to artist or poet a continual study. Did 
you notice how the fir-trees on the little island close to 
the Canadian falls are twisted and warped, as if they 
had tried to turn away from the tempest, and had been 
beaten down with the wind and snow? You were 
telling me one day about a scholarly hermit, who had 
spent his life at a lonely place on the Hudson. That is 
also a curious story, — the life and death of Francis 
Abbott, ' the hermit of Niagara,' as they call him in one 
of the old guide-books. He first appeared here, it 
seems, on a summer day in 1839, — a young man, tall, 
well-built, but pale and haggard. He carried a bundle 
of blankets, a portfolio, a book, and a flute ; went to a 
little out-of-the-way inn and took a room ; visited the 
local library ; played his flute, and rambled about the 
country ; got permission to live in a deserted log-house 
near the head of Goat Island ; lived there in a strange 



376 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

seclusion during two winters, then built himself a 
cabin at Point View, near the American falls, and did 
not appear to shun his fellow-man so much as formerly. 
A local judge became quite friendly with him ; they 
would meet and have long talks. Sometimes, too, he 
would enter into conversation with the villagers, and 
others whom he encountered on his rambles. He 
talked well, they say ; spoke of Asia and Greece with 
familiarity, and liked to discuss theological questions. 
His religious views were akin to quakerism. He was 
a fine figure, had a sorrowful face, and was attended 
by a dog, which trotted at his heels always. During 
the summer he lived in his cabin at Point View ; he 
went down the ferry-steps and bathed in the river, and, 
on June 10, 1841, he lost his life there, — after two 
years of this strange solitude. The body had been in 
the water ten days before it was found at the outlet of 
the river. The villagers brought it back and buried it. 
They went to his cabin. His dog guarded the door, a 
cat lay asleep on his rough sofa, books and music 
scattered about. There was no writing to be found, 
though the local judge said he wrote a great deal, 
chiefly in Latin, and, as a rule, burned his work, 
whatever it was. In later days friends and relatives 
of the poor young fellow came to Niagara, and identi- 
fied him as the son of a Quaker gentleman of Plym- 
outh. Rather a sad story, eh ? " 

"Yes, very, and there are others, less romantic, but 
more tragic, in connection with the falls." 

"None more sad, after all, than the death of poor 
Webb. It is true, he deliberately risked his life. I 



A HOLIDAY AT NIAGARA. 377 

have seen it stated that the rapids where he dived are 
by some persons estimated as only twenty or thirty feet 
deep. Of course nothing can be more absurd. The 
channel is only three hundred feet wide, and through 
this gorge rush the waters of five great lakes. Calcu- 
lating the volume of water, and the velocity of it, the 
scientists who estimate the depth at two hundred and 
fifty feet arc nearer the mark. The most surprising 
thinir to me about Niao^ara is the fact — it must be a 
fact — that this mighty torrent, after falling into the 
river, ploughs its way along the bottom, — the surface 
being comparatively calm, — drives along for two 
miles, and then leaps up from its imprisonment, as 
it were, into the general view, a wild, fierce torrent, 
with, further down, that awful whirlpool. Webb knew 
the force of it all; he had surveyed it, — the cruellest 
stretch of waters in the world, I suppose, — and yet he 
took that header, and went along with it hand-over- 
hand, as the man told us, and with an easy confidence 
that was heroic, — one would have thought the water 
would have beaten the life out of him before he had 
time to rise and fight it ! *' 

"Not long since," I said, "there was a picnic party 
on Goat Island. A young fellow, I think the father of 
the child itself, picked up a little girl, and in fun held 
it over the rapids above the falls. The child struggled 
and fell ; he leaped in after it, caught it, struggled 
gallantly in presence of the child's mother and the 
distracted friends, but went over the falls. I read the 
incident in a newspaper chronicle, and have it put 
away at home with many other notes about the falls, 



378 IMPBES SIGNS OF AMERICA. 

which I hoped to use in this book. Our critics will, 
of course, recognize the difficulties attending the 
preparation of these Impressions. We have worked at 
them in odd places, and at curious times. One 
wonders how they will come out." 

" Oh, all right, I am sure ! " Irving replied ; " they 
are quite unpretentious, and it is delightful to note how 
they grow up and assume shape and form. I think 
it was a happy idea." 



IV. 

But nobody will ever know, except those who took 
part in the work, how much ingenuity, patience, and 
enterprise were expended on that dinner. It was ready 
to the minute. The guests all sat down together. 
There were turkeys and there were chickens, too. 
Horsemen had ridden hard half the night to bring them 
in. There were plum-puddings, also. Lovely maidens 
at BuiFalo and Niagara, had been pressed into the ser- 
vice of stoning them. When Stoker, at midnight, in 
order to smooth the way, had telegraphed that " rare 
flowers and hot-house fruits can be dispensed with " (he 
was thinking of New York, Boston, Chicago, and 
Philadelphia), the landlady had looked at me in dis- 
may. " There isn't a flower in the whole neighborhood ! 
I'm afraid they are expecting too much," she sciid. "Not 
at all; it is only Mr. Stoker's little joke," I replied, 
fearing that at the last moment the entire business 
might fall through. As the reader already under- 
stands, it did not fall through ; but, on the contrary, was 



A nOLIDAY AT NIAGARA. 379 

a great and siii-prising success ; for, when Mr. Howe got 
up to propose the health of the founder of the feast, lie 
said, " This has been the first English dinner we have 
had since we left home, and, what is more, we have 
eaten it off English plates, — not those little dishes and 
saucers they give us everywhere in America. Not, 
ladies and gentlemen, that I have a word to say against 
the American food, — not I, — because it is good and 
abundant ; but I do like large plates, and I love to see the 
joints on the table and carved before our eyes." Every- 
body laughed at this and applauded ; but the cheering 
increased, and was followed by " three times three " and 
the chorus, " He's a jolly good fellow ! " when Mr. 
Howe thanked their " host and chief, Mr. Irving, for 
his hospitality and kindness that day, and for his energy 
and courage in bringing them all from the old country 
on a tour in the New World." 

It was nearly six when we left Niagara for the rail- 
way station, in every kind of vehicle, omnibus, buggy, 
brougham, and carriage. Mr. McHenry and a party 
of ladies and gentlemen came to see us off. The mem- 
bers of the company were loud in their expressions of 
wonder at the falls. "So strange," said one, "to be 
sitting down to dinner in view of them." "What a day 
to remember ! " exclaimed another. Tyars, Andrews, 
Terriss, Arnot, and some others, had donned the water- 
proof dress, known to every visitor, and explored the 
regions below the falls. Terriss had a narrow escape. 
There were special dangers to be encountered, owing 
to the accumulations of ice ; and, at the hands of a 
party of Englishmen, the dangers were of course duly 



380 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

attacked. Terriss slipped upon an icy descent, and 
saved himself from going headlong into the torrent by 
clutching a jagged rock, which severely lacerated his 
right hand. He played with his arm in a sling for 
several nights afterwards. 

One of the saddest stories of the falls is the history 
of a calamity that occurred almost at this very spot, in 
the autumn of 1875. Miss Philpott, her two brothers, 
a sister-in-law, and Miss Philpott's lover, Ethelbert Par- 
sons, went through the Cave of the Winds, and climbed 
over the rocks towards the American falls. They were 
residents of Niagara, and knew the ground. The 
sheltered eddies in the lighter currents under the falls 
are pleasant bathing-places. The Philpott party took 
advantage of them. Miss Philpott was venturesome. 
She bathed near one of the strongest currents. Mr. 
Parsons, seeing her in danger, went to her rescue. 
Seeking for a firm foothold for both of them, the girl 
slipped and fell. Parsons sprang for her, and both 
were carried into the current. He caught her around 
the waist. The young lady could swim, and Parsons 
was an expert ; they struck out for the rocks on the 
other side of the current. The torrent carried them 
out. By and by Parsons swam on his back, the girl 
cleverly supporting herself with her hand upon his 
shoulder. Then she suddenly pushed him away from 
her, — the inference being that she discovered the im- 
possibility of both being saved, — flung up her arms 
and sank. Parsons turned and dived after her. They 
were seen no more until some days afterwards, when the 
bodies were recovered at the whirlpool. 



A HOLIDAY AT NIAGARA. 381 

Terriss and his friends had more reason than they 
quite reaUzed to congratulate themselves upon the fact 
that they were enabled to comply with the kindly and 
considerate programme of the holiday, which arranged 
that they should sleep that night in Toronto. 



382 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



XTX. 

FROM TORONTO TO BOSTON. 

Lake Ontario — Canadian Pastimes — Tobogganing — On an Ice Slide 
— " Shooting Niagara, and After " — Toronto Students — Dressing 
for the Theati*e — " God Save the Queen" — Incidents of Ti-avel — 
Locomotive Vagaries — Stopping the Train — "Fined One Hundred 
Dollars " — The Hotels and the Poor — Tenement Houses — The Stage 
and the Pidpit — Actors, Past and Present — The Stage and the Bar- 
room — The Second Visit to Boston — Enormous Receipts —A Glance 
at the Financial Results of the Tour. 

I. 

The blizzard was in full possession of Toronto, but 
the ail' was dry, the sky blue and sunny. There was 
a brief interval for a snow-storm. But it came in a 
bright, frosty fashion. The sidewalks were hard. 
Sleighs dashed along the leading thoroughfares. Lake 
Ontario was a vast plain, upon whicli disported skaters, 
walkers, riders, drivers, and that most fairy-like of 
"white-wings," the ice-boat. Did you ever fly across 
the silvery ice on runners, with sails bending before 
the wind? It is an experience. You may spin along 
at sixty miles an hour, or more. If you are not 
wrapped to the eyes in fur you may also freeze to 
death. The sensation of wild, unchecked motion is in- 
tensely exhilarating ; but, if you are a novice, want of 
care or lack of grip may send you flying into space, or 
scudding over the ice on your own account. A secure 
seat is only obtained by accommodating yourself all 



FROM TORONTO TO BOSTON. 383 

the time to the motion of your most frail, but elegant, 
arrangement of timbers and skating-irons. 

The leading characteristic winter sport of Canada is 
Tobogganing. The word " toboggan " is Indian for 
"sled." The French call it Traine sauvage. Two or 
three light boards deftly fastened together, a mattress 
laid upon them, a sort of hollow prow in front, into 
which a Indy thrusts her feet, — that is a " toboggan." 
It is like a toy canoe, or boat, with a flat bottom and no 
sides. The lady passenger sits in front ; the gentleman 
behind. He trails his legs upon the ice-slide, and thus 
guides the machine. It is not necessary, of course, 
that there should be two passengers ; nor, being two, 
that one of them should be a lady. The contrivance 
was invented by the North American Indians. They 
used it for the transportation of burdens. The squaws 
sometimes made it available for hauling along their 
children. The pioneer troops of Courcellcs, Tracy, 
and Montcalm, made a kit carriage of it. 

There is a famous Tobogganing Club at Toronto. 
It has a elide of half a mile in length, down the side 
of a hill in a picturesque suburban valley. The slide 
starts at an angle of about forty-five degrees ; then it 
runs along a short flat; then it drops, as if going 
over a frozen Niagara, to shoot out along a great 
incline, that might be the frozen rapids. To stand at 
the summit and watch the gay toboggans slip away, 
and then disappear down the Niagara-like precipice, to 
shoot out as a bolt from a gun along the remainder 
of the pass, is to realize the possible terrors of a first 
trip. 



384 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Miss Terry watched the wild-looking business with 
amazement, and built up her courage on the experiences 
of the ladies who took the flying leap with delight. 
They were dressed in pretty flannel costumes, and their 
faces glowed with healthful excitement. But they were 
practised tobogganers. Some of them could not re- 
member when they took their first slide. A. sturdy 
officer of the club explained the simplicity of the sport 
to the famous actress, and offered to let her try half 
the slide, beginning at the section below Niagara. 

" I ought to have made my will first ; but you can 
give my diamond ring to your wife," she exclaimed, 
waving her hand to me, as she drew her cloak about 
her shoulders and stepped into the frail-looking sled. 

As she and her stalwart cavalier, in his Canadian 
flannels, flew safely along the slide, her young English 
friend and admirer followed. They had not been upon 
the wintry scene ten minutes, in fact, before both of 
them were to be seen skimming the mountain-slide at 
the speed of the Flying Dutchman of the IMidland Kail- 
way, and at one point, much faster, I expect. 

" Oh, it was avf ful — wonderful — magnificent ! " 
Miss Terry exclaimed, when she had mounted the hill 
again, ready for a second flight. " I have never ex- 
perienced anything so surprising, — it is like flying; 
for a moment you cannot breathe ! " 

And away she went again, followed at respectful 
distances, to avoid collision, by other excursionists, the 
slide fairly flashing with the bright flannels and gay 
head-dresses of the merry tobogganers. 

"Yes," she said, on her return, "it is a splendid 



FROM TORONTO TO BOSTON. 385 

pastime. The Canadians are quite right, — it beats 
skating, ice-boating, trotting, evcrytliing in the way 
of locomotion ; what matters the cold, with such exer- 
cise as tobo^-jraninG: ? " ^ 

" The Montreal Daily Star," during this Toronto week, 
had a brief description of to])ogganing, aj)ro]pos of the 
winter carnival that was being held in the neighboring 
city, during our too brief visit to Canada. A proper 
slide is constructed on "scientific principles, and blends 
a maximum of enjoyment with a minimum of danger." 
"The Star" has a picture of the enjoyment and the 
danger. It depicts an enormous mountain slide by 
torchlight. Many sleds are coming down in fine, pict- 
uresque style. There are wayside incidents of spills, 
however, which suggest a good deal of possible dis- 
comfort, " Try your luck on one of these sleds," says 
the descriptive text. "Take two or three girls with 
you. That is indispensable ; and there is a shrewd 
suspicion that much of the popularity of tobogganing 
comes from its almost essential admission of ladies. 



1 Tobogganing. — Saturday, February 24th, was a gala clay in the an- 
nals of the Toronto Toboggan Club. The slide was in perfect condition, — 
glare ice from top to bottom. About eighty members were out with their 
toboggans, enjoying the slide, the only fault of which is that it is too fast 
for the length of run at the bottom. The committee are, however, making 
arrangements to overcome this defect. During the latter part of the 
afternoon several members of Mr. Irving's company and friends Avere 
present by invitation, escorted by Mr. Bram Stoker. !Miss Terry drove 
a young friend. Miss Helen II. Ilatton (who is visiting Toronto with her 
father), out to the grounds, and they were both initiated into the Canadian 
winter sport. Miss Terry was completely captivated by this entirely new 
sensation, and only regretted that she was unable to enjoy it longer. She 
entered into it with the greatest zest. The ladies and gentlemen of the 
club gave her a very hearty welcome- •— Newspaper Reports, 



386 IMFEESSIONS OF AMERICA, 

Let them be well wrapped up. Take a firm seat on 
the cushions, never stir an inch, and all will be right. 
The J may shut their eyes and utter their little shrieks ; 
but, at their peril, they must not move. You occupy 
your station at the rear. The position is optional. 
The general mode is to lie on the left side, propped on 
one arm, with right leg extended ; but some sit, others 
kneel, and on short, easy inclines some venture to 
stand. One invariable rule is to hold on to your girl ; 
an occasional squeeze may be allowed ; indeed, there 
are critical moments when it cannot be helped. All is 
ready; the signal is given, and the descent begins. 
At first it is gradual, and one might fancy that he 
could regulate it ; but, like a flash, the grand propulsion 
is given; like an arrow's, the speed is instantaneous 
and resistless. A film passes before your eyes ; your 
breath is caught. One moment you feel yourself thrown 
into space ; the next you hear the welcome crunch of 
the firm snow, and then comes the final tumble, topsy- 
turvy, higgledy-piggledy, in the fleecy bank at the 
foot. There is the crisis of the fun, and you must 
take particular care of the girls just then. The weary 
ascent next begins, to be followed by another vertigi- 
nous descent, and still another, till the whole after- 
noon, or the whoJe of the starry evening, is spent in 
this exquisite amusement." 



FROM TORONTO TO BOSTON. 387 



II. 

The short season at Toronto was very successful, in 
every way. A great body of students filled the gallery 
of the Opera House every night. Stalls, boxes, and 
dress-circle were crowded, the audience being in full 
evening dress. The house looked like a London thea- 
tre on a first night. Boston and Philadelphia were the 
only cities that had shown anything like an approach 
to uniformity in dressing for the theatre in America, 
though New York made a good deal of display in re- 
gard to bonnets, costumes, and diamonds. New York 
copies the French more than the English in the matter 
of dressing for the theatre, consulting convenience 
rather than style, — a very sensible plan. 

On the Saturday night, after repeated calls and loud 
requests for a speech, Irving, in his " Louis XL" robes, 
stepped down to the footlights, amidst thunders of ap- 
plause. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I regret that I 
have to appear before you as somebody else, though I 
feel quite incompetent in my own person to respond to 
your kindness at all as I could wish, or in such a way 
as to make you understand how keenly I feel the com- 
pliment of your enthusiastic welcome. I thank you 
with all my heart for myself and comrades, and more 
especially for my co-worker, IMiss Terry, for the right- 
royal Canadian, I will say British, welcome you have 
given us. I can only regret that the arrangements of 
this present tour do not enable me to extend my per- 
sonal knowledge of Canada beyond Toronto." 



388 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

"Come again!" shouted a voice from the gallery, 
quite after the manner of the London gods ; " come 
again, sir !" 

" Thank you very much," Irving replied, amidst 
shouts of laughter and applause. "I will accept your 
invitation." 

" Hurrah ! " shouted the gallery ; and the house gen- 
erally applauded IMr. Irving's prompt and gratifying 
repartee. 

"I would have liked," said Irving, pulling his " Louis 
XL" robes around him, " to have travelled right through 
the Dominion, and have shaken hands with your neigh- 
bors of Montreal, Quebec, and Ottawa. That, how- 
ever, is only a pleasure deferred. In the Indian lan- 
guage, I am told, Toronto means ' The place of meet- 
ing.' To you and me, ladies and gentlemen, brother 
and sister subjects of the English throne " — 

A burst of applause compelled the speaker to pause 
for some seconds. 

" To us, ladies and gentlemen, to you before the cur- 
tain, to us behind it, I hope Toronto may mean ' The 
place of meeting again and again.'" 

His last words of thanks were drowned in applause. 
The students tried to recall him again, even after he had 
spoken. The band struck up "God save the Queen," 
and a few minutes later the audience was on its way 
home, and Irving was conducting a rehearsal of scenes 
in "]\Iuch Ado," and "The Merchant of Venice," 
rendered necessary by the illnesses which are referred 
to in another chapter. 



FROM TORONTO TO BOSTON. 389 



III. 

Two hours after midnight we were once more on 
the cars, bound for Boston J 

" These long journeys," said Irving, " are most dis- 
tressing. I wonder what sort of a trip this will be. 
We ought to arrive at Boston, on Sunday, at about 
six, they say." 

"The agent of the road," replied Mr. Falser, "tells 
me he hopes to make good time. But I told him that 
the only occasion when we have done a long journey on 
time has been when we had no railroad agent to take 
care of us. They are very good fellows, and anxious 
to help us, but they have been unfortunate. Our flat 
ba2:o:ao'e car is a trouble. You will remember that the 
Erie could not take it, and some of the other companies 
consider it an extra risk. It affords an excuse for not 
exceeding a certain speed. Besides this, we have not 
had so much snow in America for over twenty years 
as this winter. Our trains have been snowed up, and 

1 Mr. Henry Irving^, Miss Ellen Terry, and their company left for 
Boston early in the morning-, l>y special train, over the " West Shore 
route." The train consisted of Mr. Trving's private car, two Pullmans, and 
three ba<^gage-cars. The Pullmans, two of those in ordinary use on the 
West Shore road, are simply magnificent in their internal arrangements, 
possessing the latest improvements, and affording to the traveller the 
greatest possible comfort. Among the innovations not found in the 
ordinary " sleepers " are the racks on which clothes may be deposited ; 
electric call-bells attached to each berth, coramunicatjng with the porter's 
berth ; a small kitchen, where light refreshments may be prepared, and the 
whole structure running on paper wheels, so that the rattle and jar of the 
ordinary car is entirely abolished. The train was in charge of Mr. G. J. 
Weeks, of Buifalo, northern passenger agent of the company, who accom- 
pauied the party to Boston. — Toronto Mail. 



390 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

this has occasioned all sorts of delays, as you know. 
But I hope we will get through to Boston in good time." 

We did not, "by a large majority," as Bard well 
Slote says. It was a tedious and unsatisfactory jour- 
ney. So soon as we left the West Shore line we 
began to have trouble. It was on a short section of an 
unimportant road that we encountered most delay, the 
character of which will be best illustrated by a brief 
conversation between Irving and several other per- 
sons : — 

"Well, what is the matter now, George?" Irving 
asked the colored conductor of the private car. 

" Oh, this is the third time he's stopped in the woods 
to tinker up his darned old engine," said George ; 
" seems it needs it ! " 

Everybody laughed at this rough criticism of the 
engineer and his locomotive. 

"Stops in the woods, eh?" says Irving, — "that no- 
body may see him ? But suppose another train comes 
along?" 

" If the brakeman should neglect to go back and flag 
it, there might be no performance at the Boston Thea- 
tre on Monday," said Falser. "That is how Wagner, 
the car-builder, lost his life. He was killed in one of 
his own cars, on the New York Central. The train 
stopped suddenly, — it is said somebody on board 
pulled the check-string in joke,^ — and an oncoming 

^During the journey from Boston to Baltimore an inquiring- member of 
Mr. Irving's company pulled the check-string, "just to see Avhat the thing 
was." There was great consternation on board, neither guard nor driver 
knowing what had happened. The inquiring gentleman offered a frank ex- 
planation, and the train went on again ; but the monotony of the remainder of 



FROM TORONTO TO BOSTON. 391 

train, not being warned, ran into them, and Mr. Wag- 
ner was killed." 

"Ah," Irving replied, "there must have been a good 
deal of flag-signalling done on this journey of ours, 
seeing how often we have stopped." 

"Yes, that's so ; yah, yah ! " remarks the privileged 
colored servant. 

" I don't think any of the tracks we have crossed are 
as good as the Pennsylvania," said Irving; "they are 
certainly not as good as the Midland or Great West- 
ern in England. The West Shore road is evidently a 
fine one ; but I have more than once during our travels 
been reminded of a story I came across recently, relat- 
ing to a passenger's question : ' We've struck a smoother 

the journey was relieved by a little practical joke at our friend's expense. 
An official was introduced into the conspiracy, and the delinquent was formal- 
ly fined a hundred dollars. The rules of the company and the law of the land 
were quoted against him. Irving explained to him the enormity of his 
offence, and, after a little outburst against the tyranny of American laws as 
compared with those of England, the defendant paid twenty dollars on 
account, and a subscription was started to raise the remainder. " I am 
glad the affair occurred," said the offender, an hour or two later, " if only 
for the pleasure it has given me to find how well I stand with my col- 
leagues ; it is quite touching the way they have stood by me in purse and 
in friendly words." Alas for the sent iment of the thing ! — most of the sub- 
scribers were in the secret. At Baltimore imaginary despatches passed be- 
tween Mr. Abbey and the railway authorities, and the fine was withdrawn, 
the President, at Ncav York, being satisfied that there was no malice in Mr. 

's strange interference with the working of the train. The victim 

thereupon wrote a letter of thanks to Mr. Abbey, had quite a pathetic inter- 
view with Irving on the happy termination of the contretemps, and in- 
sisted upon treating the chief subscribers to champagne, over which he 
made so cordial and excellent a speech that everybody shook hands with 
him, and said he was '' a real good fellow," — which is perfectly true, and 
a good actor to boot. I would not hav^e mentioned this incident but that 
the opportunity of an appropriate foot-note overbears ray self-denial ; and, 
after all, it was a very harmless piece of fun. 



392 IMPBESSIOA^S OF AMERICA. 

strip of road, have we not?' The Arkansas railway 
conductor replied, 'No, we've only run off the track.' " 

"Yah! yah!" shouted George, as he disappeared 
to tell the story to Peter in the kitchen. 

"The newspaper that told the story added, as 
American journals are apt to do, a line or tw^o of its 
own, to the effect that the Arkansas conductor's reply 
was almost as uncomplimentary as that of an Eastern 
conductor, who, upon being discharged, said, * Well, I 
was intending to quit anyway, for there is nothing left 
of your old road but two streaks of iron rust and a 
right of way.'" 

IV. 

DuRmG one of the very long delays in question 
Irving and I talked of many things. 

" You were speaking of the waste of food at hotels and 
restaurants one day," Irving remarked. " I am told that 
at some of the best houses in Chicago the clean scraps 
that are left on dishes after each meal are collected and 
given to poor families every day. Children with large 
baskets call for them. Another class of scraps go to 
charitable institutions, more particularly Roman Catho- 
lic establishments. These are the leavings of the 
carver's tables in the kitchens. One is orlad to know 
this, for I, too, have often been struck with the abun- 
dance that is taken away untouched from tables 
where I have dined ; though I have seen nothing of the 
public breakfast and dining rooms. It is quite a 
system in England, I believe, the collection of food for 
the humbler ' homes ' and charities ; but one does not see 



FROM TORONTO TO BOSTON. 393 

in America any poor of the abject, poverty-stricken 
class that is familiar at home. Life to many must, 
nevertheless, be a bitter struofofle. 

"There are many who are well off; thousands who 
would be happier even in the most wretched districts 
of Ireland. An Irish friend of mine, in New York, 
said to me only the other day, ' The worst hut in Con- 
nemara is a palace to some of the tenement-house 
dens where my countrymen herd together in New 
York.' " 

"They don't go West, I am told, as the Germans 
and Swedes and Norwegians do. It is a little odd 
that they do not take full advantage of the unrestricted 
freedom of the West, and the gift of land which can 
be o])tained from the American government. Sixty 
acres, is it not?" 

"Yes, that is the endowment America offers to 
settlers in some of her finest territory ; and it is true 
that, as a rule, the Irish do not become farmers on this 
side of the Atlantic. They prefer city life, even with 
its disabilities. When I was in America one hot sum- 
mer, two years ago, children of the poor, v>dio live in 
the common tenement-houses down-town in New York, 
were dying of the heat at the rate of hundreds a day. 
In her most crowded alleys London has nothing to 
compare with the lodging-houses in the poorer districts 
of New York for squalor and misery. But human 
nature is alike all the world over ; more than one rich 
man collects heavy rents from these death-traps." 

" Just as a few of our fellow-countrymen in London 
supplement their rents by the contributions of inflxmous 



394 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

tenants. I dare say some of tliese hypocrites make 
speeches against the stage, and go ostentatiously to 
church ; otherwise they would be found out by their 
associates. Religion is, indeed, a useful cloak for these 
gentry. It is gratifying to find that in some Ameri- 
can cities, that are noted for their church discipline, 
the preachers are not afraid to tell their flocks that, 
properly used, the stage, as a moral teacher, is not 
unworthy of alliance with the pulpit. 

"Did Mr. Beecher talk about the morality of the 
stage, or its relations to the public?" 

"No, but one of the writers for a Brooklyn journal 
asked me some questions on the subject. I told him 
that the world has found out that they live just like 
other people, and that, as a rule, they are observant of 
all that makes for the sweet sanctities of life, and they 
are as readily recognized and welcomed in the social 
circle as the members of any other profession. The 
stage has literally lived down the rebuke and reproach 
under which it formerly cowered, and actors and ac- 
tresses receive in society, as do the members of other 
professions, exactly the treatment which is earned by 
their personal conduct. He asked me about the 
morality of attending the theatre, and I said I should 
think the worst performances seen on any of our stages 
cannot be so bad as drinking for a corresponding time 
in what you call here a bar-room, and what we term a 
gin-palace. The drinking is usually done in bad com- 
pany, and is often accompanied by obscenity. Where 
drink and low people come together these things must 
be. The worst that can come of stage pandering to 



FROM TORONTO TO BOSTON. 395 

the corrupt tastes of its basest patrons cannot be any- 
thing like tliis, and, as a rule, the stage holds out long 
against the invitation to pander ; and such invitations, 
from the publicity and decorum that attend the whole 
matter, are neithei:- frequent nor eager. He informed 
me that the clergy, as a rule, — he used the term dis- 
senting clergy, I suppose, as an explanation to me to 
denote the class who are not Episcopalians, that I 
might the better compare them with the ministers at 
home, — he told me that they are opposed to theatres. 
He asked me what I felt about this. I told him I 
thought that both here and in England the clerical 
profession are becoming more liberal in their views. 
Some people think they can live and bring up their 
children in such a way as to avoid all temptation of 
body and mind, and be saved nine-tenths of the re- 
sponsibility of self-control. But that seems to me to 
be a foolish notion. You must be in the world, though 
you need not be of it. The best way for the clergy to 
make the theatre better is not to stay away from it, 
and shun the people who play in it, but to bring public 
opinion to bear upon it, — to denounce what is bad 
and to encourage what is good. When I was a boy I 
never went to the theatre except to see a Shake- 
spearian play, and I endeavored to make my theatrical 
experiences not only a source of amusement, but of 
instruction.' '' 



396 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



"It was a, glorious audience," said the "Boston 
Daily Globe," of February 26, "that welcomed Irving 
and Terry back to Boston last evening. No better evi- 
dence of the great popularity of the English artists 
could have been given than that which was implied in 
the presence of such an assemblage. The Boston was 
thronged, and the gathering represented the best class 
of our play-goers, — a company that accorded the stars 
a cordial greeting both, and tliat was appreciative of 
all the excellences that marked the entertainment." 

The theatre was crowded in all parts. "Louis XI." 
and " The Belle's Stratagem " were played. " Much 
Ado " closed the engagement. It was received by the 
audience as if it were a revelation of stage work, and 
criticised in the press in a similar spirit. At the end 
of the play the audience summoned the leading actors 
before the curtain over and over again. It was a scene 
of the most unaffected excitement. At last there arose 
cries of " A speech ! " " A speech ! " to which Irving 
responded, visibly moved by the enthusiasm of his Bos- 
ton admirers and friends. He said : — 

" Gentlemen and Ladies, — I have no words in 
which to express my thanks for your kindness ; ' only 
my blood speaks to you in my veins.' A few weeks 
since we came here, and you received us with un- 
bounded hospitality, and gave us a welcome that 
touclied us deeply, — a true Boston welcome. (Ap- 
plause.) We come back, and you treat us not as 



FROM TORONTO TO BOSTON. 397 

strangers, but as old friends. (Applause.) Again, I 
say, I can find no words adequately to convey our 
thanks. I need not tell you that this is to us a matter 
of the deepest gratitude and pleasure, for it is a proof 
that we have perhaps realized some of your expecta- 
tions, and have not absolutely disappointed you. (Ap- 
plause. ) I say Sve,' because I speak in behalf of all, — 
not for myself alone, but for my comrades, and espe- 
cially for one who has, lam sure, won golden opinions ; 
you know to whom I allude (Applause, and cries of 
^Yes ! ' ' Yes ! ') — my friend, and fellow-artist, Miss 
Ellen Terry. (Applause and cheers.) When we have 
recrossed the Atlantic, and are in our homes, we shnll 
ever bear you in our kindliest memories. I hope to be 
here again. (Applause, cheers, and shouts, 'Come 
again ! ' ' That's right ! ') Even before the present year 
closes I hope to be with you. (Cheers.) Once more 
I thank you with all my heart, and bid you good-night, 
only hoping that your memories of us may be as agree- 
able as those we shall cherish of you." (Applause and 
cheers.) 

This second visit, it is agreed on all hands, brought 
more money into the treasury of the Boston than had 
ever before been taken during one week at that or any 
other theatre in the city, namely, $24,087, — and this 
was the largest sum that had been received during any 
previous week of the Irving engagement. 

It will be interesting, at this period of the tour, to 
glance at its financial results. The following figures 
are taken from the cash-book of Mr. J. H. Falser, the 



398 



IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



business manager and treasurer, who supplied them to 
the " Boston Herald," and " vouched for their absolute 
accuracy " : — 



New York — first week. 
New York — second week 
New York — third week 
New York — fourth week 
Philadelphia — first week 
Philadelphia — second week 
Boston — first week 
Boston — second week . 
Baltimore — one week . 
Brooklyn — one week . 
Chicago — first week . 
Chicago — second week 
St. Louis — one week . 
Cincinnati — one week . 
Indianapolis (4 nights) and Col 
Chicago (return) — one week 
Detroit (2 nights) and Toronto (3 
Boston (return) — one week 



bus (2 ni 
nights) ^ 



hts) 



$15,772 00 
18,714 00 
18,880 00 
22,321 50 
16,128 50 
16,780 50 
18,845 50 
16,885 00 

. 9,952 00 
12,468 00 
17,048 75 
19,117 50 
13,719 00 
11,412 00 
8,700 50 
18,308 75 
13,430 50 
24,087 00 



cities where Mr. Irving has 



The total receipts in 
played more than one week were as follows : 



New York — four weeks $75,687 50 

Boston — three weeks 59,817 50 

Chicao:o — three weeks 54,475 00 



Philadelphia — two weeks 



J2,D09 00 



The total receipts of the tour, thus far, have been 
$292,571. 



One day's rest was taken at Niagara Falls. 



WASHINGTON, ETC, 399 



XX. 

WASHINGTON, NEW ENGLAND, AND SOME 
"RETURN VISITS." 

From Rail to River. — Once more on Board the *' Maryland." — Recol- 
lections of President Arthur. — At the White House. — Washinij^ton 
Society. — An Apt Shakespearian Quotation. — Distinguished People. — 
"Hamlet." — A Council of War. — Making Out the Route of a New 
Tour. — A Week in New England Cities. — Brooklyn and Philadelphia 
Revisited. 



We left Boston at about two o'clock in the mornino* 

o 

of the 3d of March, and after breakfast, at half-past 
ten, some of us turn out to stretch our legs on the rail- 
road track by the side of the Harlem river. Once more 
we are shunted on board the " Maryland," that is to 
convey us " down stream, to connect with the Pennsyl- 
vania road," At about eleven o'clock we are afloat. 
Presently we pass Blackwell's Island. The pretty vilhis 
on the opposite bank are in notable contrast with the 
hard, prosaic buildings of the island. The morning is 
grey and cold. The snow is falling lightly and is full 
of crystals. Most of the company are on deck, which 
stretches right over the snow-covered cars. Some are 
promenading and enjoying the change from railway to 
river travel. Others are breakfasting in the steamer's 
spacious saloon. Howe and his wife ; Terriss (his hand 
in a sling) ; Tyars (in his long Scotch ulster, which 
was evidently new to the gamins of Philadelphia, where 



400 IMPRESSION'S OF AMERICA. 

they said, as he passed, "Here's a dude!"); Mrs. 
Pauncefort, and others, are defying the sharp weather 
at the bows of the vessel, which, with its freight, is a 
continual surprise to them. INIiss Mill ward, tlie pictu- 
resque Jessica of " The Merchant," is romping merrily 
with the children of the company, who are quite a 
feature in the garden and church scenes of "Much Ado." 

We steal quietly along the river without noise, 
but with a steady progression. Blackwell's Island 
prisons are enlivened in color by a little company of 
women, who are being marched into the peniten- 
tiary. They turn to look at the " Maryland " as they 
enter the stony portals. As we creep along, villas on 
our left give place to lumber-yards, with coasting- 
vessels lying alongside. Leaving Blackwell's on the 
right, the shore breaks up into picturesque wharfage, 
backed, in the distance, by the first of the steeples of 
Fifth avenue. The eye follows them along ; wharves 
and river-craft in front ; the spires against the grey sky, 
until they are repeated, as it were, by forests of masts, 
— first a few, and then a cluster. We meet another 
train coming up the river, then another ; and now we 
get glimpses, through the haze, of distant ferry-boats 
ahead. There is a dull mist on the river, and here and 
there it hangs about in clouds. We pass Long Island 
railroad pier. It is very cold ; but the children of the 
company still trot about, ruddy and merry. 

" You don't say so ! " exclaims somebody. " Is it true, 
the train we saw at Harlem, which we thought full of 
poor emigrants, was the Opera Company on their way 
to Boston, — the chorus? " 



WASHINGTON, ETC. 401 

"Quite true." 

"Then I can now understand," is the rejoinder, 
"that the passengers on board the 'Rome,' when we 
came out, thought us a most respectable crowd." 

"That has been remarked before," says the buxom 
Martha of "Louis XI," "and in far more compli- 
mentary terms." 

Presently, through the mist on the larboard side, we 
catch a glimpse of the Brooklyn bridge. A few gulls 
are sweeping down the river before us. On both 
banks there are wharves and ships. One of the 
vessels flies the British flag, which is greeted with 
a cheer from some of our people. On the left 
bank of the river is a great sugar factory, with a 
picturesque red brick tower. We have now left the 
Harlem river, and for some little time have been steam- 
ing down the East towards the North river, with Bed- 
loe's island — a dot in the distant Sound — and Sandy 
Hook somewhere in the mist beyond. We now pass 
Hunter's Point, and slue gradually round towards 
the North river. We glide along beneath the won- 
derful bridge, and look up among its net-work of 
roads and. rails ; past Piers 50 and 51 on our right, 
with freight-cars and steamers ready for the river ; past 
the New York, New Haven, and Hartford Railway 
quTiys, hugging the South-street docks and ship-repair- 
ing yards. Governor's Island at our bow. Ships and 
steamers stretch along to Battery Point, which we round 
into the North river, and pass Castle Garden. It is 
here that we catch sight of Bedloe's and other distant 
islands, and look far in the direction of Sandy Hook, 



402 nJPBESSIOKS OF AMERICA. 

whence fierce tug-boats are steaming along, with great 
barges in tow. Now we cross the river to Jersey City. 
It is two o'clock. Our cars are once more on the rails, 
and, at about nine o'clock that night, we ran into 
Washington. 

II. 

"You know the President," said Irving, while w 
were travelling from Boston to Washington. 

" Yes ; I met him once or twice during the contest 
when he was ultimately returned as Vice-President 
with General Garfield. His likeness had become very 
familiar to me before I saw him. Candidates for the 
high ofiaces of state are not only photographed, but 
their pictures are painted in heroic proportions. You 
see them everywhere, — on flags and banners, in shop- 
windows, in the newspapers. But you will be in the 
thick of it next autumn, since you have really decided 
to return this year." 

"Oh, yes! — but tell me about your meeting with 
the President, — wdiat is he like?" 

" Tall and handsome ; frank and genial in manner ; 
an excellent conversationalist ; well read, — a gen- 
tleman. I became acquainted with him on the eve 
of his election to the vice-presidential chair. At his 
installation hundreds of his personal friends and ad- 
mirers from eastern and western cities made ' high fes- 
tival,' in his honor at AYashington. Two years later 
I saw him, with sorrowful face and head bowed down, 
start for the capital, to stand by the bedside of the dying 
President, with whom he had been elected. Soon 



WASHINGTON, ETC. 403 

afterwards the friends, who had metaphorically flung 
up their caps for him on the merry day of his installa- 
tion with Garfield, went, ' with solemn tread and slow,' 
to assist at his inauguration into the chair which, for 
a second time, the hand of the assassin had rendered 
vacant. My recollection of Mr. Arthur pictured a 
stout, ruddy-complexioned man, with dark hair and 
whiskers, and a certain elasticity in his gait that beto- 
kened strong physical health. I remember that we sat 
together by the taffrail of a Sound steamer, and 
talked of the vicissitudes of life and its uncertainties, 
and that I was deeply moved with sympathy for him in 
regard to the death of his most accomplished and 
amiable wife, of whom he spoke (apro2Dos of some 
remark that led up to his bereavement) with a quiver- 
ing lip and a moistened eye. The day had been a 
very pleasant one ; the bay of New York was sleeping 
in the sun ; the air w^as balmy ; the time gracious in all 
respects ; but, while doing his best to enliven the pass- 
ing hour, Arthur's thoughts had wandered to the grave 
of his wife. She was a very accomplished woman, I 
afn told ; musical, a sweet disposition, refined and cul- 
tivated in her tastes. Friends of mine who knew her 
say that she, above all others, would have rejoiced in 
her husband's victory ; and, while inspiring him with 
fortitude under the calamity that lay beyond, would 
have lent a grace to liis reign at the White House that 
alone was necessary to complete the simple dignity of 
his administration, social and otherwise, which will 
always be remembered at Washington in connection 
with the presidentship of Chester A. Arthur." 



404 IMPBE8SI0NS OF AMERICA. 

"I have letters to the Presiiient, which I shall cer- 
tainly take the first opportunity to deliver," said Irving. 

When I met Mr. Arthur again in his own room, 
at the Executive Mansion, I was struck with the 
change which the anxieties and responsibilities of 
office, entered upon under circumstances of the most 
painful character, had wrought upon him. His 
face was careworn ; his hair white ; his manner sub- 
dued. He stooped in his gait ; the old brightness 
had gone out of his eyes, and there was what seemed 
to be a permanently saddened expression about the 
corners of his mouth. He did not look sick ; there 
was nothing in his face or figure denoting ill-health or 
physical weakness ; but in the course of four years he 
appeared to me to have aged twenty. I had not been 
in Washington a day before he sent for me and my 
family, with a pleasant reference to the time when last 
we met. Looking back over these four years, and con- 
sidering its record of trouble and anxiety, I could well 
have forgiven him if he had forgotten my very exist- 
ence. That he recalled the occasion of our meeting, 
and was still touched with tlie spirit of it, I mention to 
do him honor, not myself; though, had it pleased Provi- 
dence not to have afflicted me with a never-ending sor- 
row, I could have felt a high sense of personal pride in 
the home-like reception which the President of the United 
States gave to me and my family, in his own room at 
the Executive Mansion, sitting down with us and chat- 
ting in a pleasant, unconstrained, familiar way, that 
is characteristic of American manners, and eminently 
becomes the chief of a great republic. 



WASHINGTON, ETC. 405 

Were this book only intended for English readers I 
would hesitate (even with tlie friendly approval of my 
collaborator) about publishing these feAV sentences, so 
personal to myself, lest it should be thought I might 
be " airing my connections " ; but a President per se is 
not held in such profound estimation or reverence in 
America as in England, where we rank him with the 
most powerful of reigning monarchs, and give him a 
royal personality. Moreover, I should be ungrateful 
did I not take the best possible opportunity to acknowl- 
edge a conspicuous act of kindliness and grace on the 
part of one who, since I last met him, had stepped 
from the private station of mere citizenship to the chief 
office of state over fifty millions of people, wielding 
an individual power in their government that belongs 
to no constitutional sovereign, nor to any prince or 
minister in the most despotic courts or cabinets of 
Europe. 



III. 

"And I can only say," remarked Irving, as we left 
the White House together, after his first interview 
with the President, "that, if his reelection de- 
pended on my vote, he should have it. I know 
nothing about the political situation ; but the man we 
have just left has evidently several qualities that I 
should say fit him for his office, — foremost among 
them is patience. I would also say that he has the 
virtue of self-denial, and he is certainly not impul- 
sive. A kind-hearted man, I am sure, capable of the 



406 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

highest sentiment of friendship, of a gentle disposi- 
tion, and with great repose of character." 

"You have made quite a study of him," I said; 
"and I am glad you like him, for I am sure he likes 
you." 

j They had had a long chat at the White House. Mr. 

^Congressman Phelps accompanied Irving, and intro- 
duced him to the Secretary of the Navy, and to other 
ministers who came and went during the first part of 
the informal reception. The President talked of plays 
and general literature ; regretted that Washington, 
wdiicli had so many fine buildings, did not yet possess 
a theatre worthy of the city. 

"A beautiful city, Mr. President," said Irving. "I 
had heard much of Washington, but am agreeably sur- 
prised at its fine buildings, its handsome houses, its 
splendid proportions ; and the plan of it seems to be 
unique." 

" The oriscinal desi<2:n was the work of a French en- 
gincer," said the President, "who served under Wash- 
ington. His idea, evidently, was that a republic 
would have continually to contend with revolutions at 
the capital. He, therefore, kept in view the military 
exigencies of the government. The main streets of 
the city radiate upon a centre tliat is occupied by the 
legislative and executive buildings, like the spokes of 
a wheel, so that they could be dominated by artillery. 
This was the French idea of the dangers and duties of 
that republican form of government, which has never 
been contested here, nor is ever likely to be. While 
but a village Washington was laid out for a great city, 



WASHINGTON, ETC, 407 

and, without any seeming prospect of the grand idea 
being realized, the original lines have, nevertheless, 
always been adhered to." 

"And with glorious results," said Irving. "Wash- 
ington is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever 
seen. There is no reason why the highest architectural 
ambition should not be realized in such broad avenues 
and boulevards, and with such a site." j 



IV. 

" Many Americans underrate the beauty of Washing- 
ton," I said. " Comparatively few of them have seen 
it, and hundreds who criticise it have not been south 
for a number of years. The growth of Washington is 
not only modern, it is of yesterday. The city was 
really little more than a village up to the date of the 
late war; and it was only in 1871 that the impetus 
was given to the public enterprise that has covered it 
with palaces, private and public. It is the only city 
of America in which the streets are kept as cleanly 
and as orderly as London and Paris. The streets are 
asphalted, and you may drive over them everywhere 
without inconvenience or obstruction. There is an 
individuality about the houses that is one of Washing- 
ton's most notable architectural characteristics." 

"Yes," said Irving, " that is a great point. New 
York is lacking in that respect, the reason being, I 
suppose, its want of space. Some of the houses in 
Washington suggest Bedford Park, Fitzjohn's avenue, 



408 IiMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

and the street of artists' houses at Kensinsrton. The 
same may be said of portions of Chicago and Boston. 
The so-called Queen Anne order of architecture is very 
prevalent in Washington, — take Pennsylvania ave- 
nue, for instance. On a fine summer's day it must 
be a picture, with its trees in leaf and its gardens in 
bloom." 
I Irving went more than once to the White House, 
and was greatly impressed with the dignified infor- 
mality of one of its evening receptions. 

"No ceremonious pomp, no show, and yet an air of 
conscious power," he said ; " the house might be the 
modest country-seat of an English noble, or wealthy 
commoner, the President the host receiving his inti- 
mate friends. No formal announcements ; presentations 
made just as if we were in a quiet country-house. 
Soon after supper, when the ladies took their leave, and 
most of the gentlemen with them, I and one or two 
others went into the President's room, and chatted, I 
fear, until morning. It was to me very enjoyable. 
President Arthur would shine in any society. He has 
a large acquaintance with the best literature, dramatic 
and general, is apt at quotation, an excellent story- 
teller, a gentleman, and a good fellow. 1 AYhen I had 
said good-night, and was on my way to the hotel, I 
could not help my own thoughts wandering back to 
thoughts of Lincoln and Garfield, wliose portraits I 
had noticed in prominent positions on the walls of the 
executive mansion. I remember Mr. Noah Brooks, of 
New York, telling us the story of Lincoln's death, and 
how he was to have been in the box wdth him at the 



WASHINGTON, ETC. 409 

theatre that same niglit, and how yiviclly he recounted 
the chief incidents of the tragedy. And Garfield, — 
I can quite understand that terrible business making his 
successor prematurely old, called as he was into office 
under such painful circumstances, and with so great a 
responsibility. A distinguished American was telling 
me yesterday that only the wisest discretion and per- 
sonal self-denial in resrard to the fillino: of offices saved 
America from the possibilities of riot and bloodshed. 
He said Arthur's singularly quiet administration of 
affairs — the one necessity of the time — would be 
taken into account at the polls, if he is nominated for 
reelection." 



Washington society made itself most agreeable to 
both Irving and Miss Terry, though " Portia, on a 
trip from the Venetian seas," to quote the New York 
reporter, made her visit to the capital an opportunity 
for rest. Electing this city for a holiday, being 
relieved of a week's journey through New England, 
she remained at the capital on a visit to her friend, 
Miss Olive Seward, the adopted daughter of the famous 
minister of Lincoln's administration. 

Among the social entertainments given in Irving's 
honor were two notable little suppers, — one at the 
Metropolitan Club, by Mr. II. L. Nelson, Secretary 
to the Speaker, and a journalist of well- won renown. 
There were present, the Speaker (the Hon. John G. 
Carlisle), Senator Bayard, Representatives Dorsheimer 



410 IMPRESSIONS (TF AMERICA. 

(ex.-Lieut. Governor of the State of Mew York), T. 
B. Reed, Dr. George B. Loring (Commissioner of 
Agriculture), and Messrs. John Davis (Assistant Sec- 
retary of State), and F. E. Leupp. The other "even- 
ing after the play " was spent at INIr. Dorsheimer's 
house, in Connecticut avenue, where the guests included 
several distinguished judges, senators, and government 
officials. The conversation on both occasions was 
chiefly about plays. It was a great relief from law and 
politics, one of the learned judges said, to discuss 
Shakespeare and the stage. They all talked well upon 
the drama ; some of them had known Forrest ; others, the 
elder Booth. Irving was more than usually talkative 
in such congenial company. He related many reminis- 
cences of the English stage, none of which interested 
his Washington friends more than his anecdotes of 
Macready. Several instances of apt Shakespearian 
quotations were given ; but they were all capped by a 
story which Nelson told of Judge Jeremiah S. Black, 
Mr. Buchanan's Attorney-General and Secretary of 
State. Judge Black was holding court at Chambers- 
burgh, Pa., when he was on the circuit in that State, 
forty years or more ago. His manners were rough, 
but more from absent-mindedness than any other cause, 
for he was one of the kindest of men. He would almost 
invariably find the strong point in a cause that was on 
trial before him, and go on thinking about it without 
reference to the point which counsel might be consider- 
ing ; so that his questions often seemed impertinent to 
the bar. One of the lawyers of Chambersburgh was a 
man of the name of Chambers, a soft-spoken, mild- 



WASHINGTON, ETC. 411 

mannered kind of man. Chambers suffered especially 
from wliat he supposed was Black's intentional rudeness 
to him, and, one day, he came to the conclusion that 
his burdens were intolerable ; therefore he stopped in 
the midst of his argument, and expostulated with the 
judge, telling him that he always tried to treat the court 
deferentially, but the judge did not reciprocate. The 
judge sat smiling through Chambers's long reproof, and 
bricily answered : — 

" Ilaply, for I am hlaclc. 
And have not those soft parts of conversation 
That chamherers have." 

During the week Irving visited the capitol, and was 
introduced to the highest officers of state. He heard 
debates in both houses, visited the law courts, and re- 
ceived many kindly attentions, public and private. 
The theatre was crowded every night. On the first 
night the President sat in the stalls, and the llussian 
ambassador contented himself with quite a back seat. 
Mr. Bancroft, the white-haired historian, was a con- 
stant attendant. jNIr. Charles Nordhoff (whose graphic 
stories are not sufficiently well known) was in the 
stalls ; so, also, were the authors of " Democracy." (It 
is rumored that they arc a society syndicate ; but there 
is more authority in the statement that they arc two, 
and I could give their names. I forljcar, for the sake 
of the American lady who was pointed out to me in 
London, last year, as the undoubted author of the 
''scurrilous burlesque"). ]Mr. Blaine (one of the most 
famous and learned of American statesmen) was also 
present, and he was one of the prominent men who 



412 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

showed Irvinsr much social attention.^ A list of the 
distinguished people present, would include a majority 
of the great personages at Washington during the 
season of 1884. All the plays were enthusiastically 
received.^ 



^ The President went last evening to witness the final performance of 
Mr. Henry Irving and his company at the National Theatre, in " Louis 
XI." and " The Belle's Stratagem." Mrs. McElroy and Miss Nellie Arthur 
were with him in the box. Subsequently he entertained at the White 
House, Mr. Irving, the members of the President's cabinet and the ladies 
of their families ; Mrs. McElroy and Miss McElroy, the sister and niece 
of the President ; Colonel and Mrs. Bonaparte ; General and Mrs. P. H. 
Sheridan, United States Army ; General E. F. Bealc ; Mr. and Mrs. Mar- 
cellus Bailey ; Mr. Walker Blaine ; Mr. and Mrs. N. L. Anderson ; Lieut. 
T. B. M. Mason, Unkcd States Navy, and Mrs. Mason ; Commissioner of 
Agriculture George B. Loring, Mrs. and Miss Loring ; Assistant Attorney- 
General William A. INIaury, Mrs. and Miss Mauiy ; Assistant Secretary of 
State John Davis and Mrs. Davis ; John P. Jones, United States Senate, 
and Mrs. Jones, Nevada ; Senator M. C. Butler, South Carolina ; Senator 
Aldvich, Rhode Island ; ls^\ and Mrs. II. S. Sanford ; :Mr. John Field ; 
Mr. F. J. Phillips, secretary to the President; Senator and Mrs. John F. 
Miller, California; Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Lyman, of Massachusetts, 
House of Pcpresentatives ; Mr. and Mrs. William Walter Phelps. New Jer- 
sey, House of Bcprcsentatives ; Mr. Clayton McMichacl, United States Mar- 
shal, and Mrs. McMichael ; Mr. and Mrs. Charles NordhofF, " New York 
Herald"; Mr. Stillson Ilutchings, "Washington Post"; Mr. Albert 
Pulitzer, " i^ew York Journal " ; Mr. and Mrs. Isaac Bell, of New York ; 
Mr. and IMi-s. Joseph Ilatton, of England. — No actor was ever so enter- 
tained in Washington as Mr. Irving has been. He attended a supper at 
the Metropolitan Club on Wednesday evening ; a breakfast given by Mr. 
Bayard on Thursday ; gave a supper to Mr. Blaine and a party of friends 
on Thursday evening, after the play ; was the guest of Mr. William Walter 
Plielps on Friday morning; attended a supper given to him by Mr. 
Dorsheimer on Friday evening ; and last night was the President's guest, 
as stated. Miss Terry has received more social attentions here than iu 
any other American city. — The Capital, March 9. 

2 We thoroughly believe that the time will never come when any actor 
can present a Hamlet that Avill be universally regarded as a correct inter- 
pretation of the master poet's sublime creation. Mr. Irving's impersona- 
tion was brilliantly bold in execution, replete with new readings and 
stage business, and magnificentbursts of feeling, arising from his changea- 



WASHINGTON, ETC. 413 

Called on, as usual, to speak when the curtain had 
gone down for the last time (after three recalls) , Irving 
thanked the audience for the kind reception and liberal 
patronage which had been accorded himself and his 
company. They had during the past few months 
appeared in all the leading cities of the country, and 
he felt that this cordial welcome in the beautiful capital 
of the Union might fairly be regarded as the crowning 
engagement of a most happy and prosperous tour. He 
returned heartfelt thanks, not alone for himself, but for 
his company ; and especially for his fair comrade and 
friend, Miss Ellen Terry, of whom he felt he could 
heartily say: "She came, she saw, she conquered." 
He said farewell with the greater ease in the expec- 
tation of having the privilege of again appearing in 
Washington early in the coming season. Again return- 
ing thanks, and saying good-by, Mr. Irving bowed 
himself off the stage amid very demonstrative applause. 

blcness of moods. There does not seem to be a scene in the entire tragedy 
which he has not touched with his own subtle and delicate refinement, and 
removed far above the conventionalities of other actors whom we have 
seen. His first soliloquy, " Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt ! '* 
was rendered as though it Avere the unconscious utterance of a thought. 
He displayed but little interest in the return to earth of his father's spirit 
until he met it face to face ; and then he surrounded himself with a solemn 
supernaturalism, tinged with glow of superb filial alTection. This, in turn, 
seemed to give way to a sort of nervous terror, and he became hysterical, 
which presented to the oath of secrecy an added reverential awe. The 
first long interview between Hamlet and Ophelia was played with splendid 
dramatic force and fire. His simulation of passion, his deep longing for 
its gratification, and his recklessness consequent upon his recollection of 
the stern duty to which he had devoted himself, — alternately flying from 
her, and then returning, — was a part of the perfonnance which created a 
most profound impression upon our mind. — The National Repuhlican^ 
March 6. 



414 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



VI. 

It was quite like a council of war to see Irving, 
Loveday, Falser, and Stoker, bending over a map of 
the United States, during the journey from Washington 
to New York, en route for several New England cities. 
The chart was scanned with careful interest, Irving 
passing his linger over it here and there, not with the 
intensity of the overthrown monarch in "Charles the 
First," but with a close scrutiny of routes. The chief 
was sketching out his next tour in America. 

"No more long journeys," he said. 

"They are not necessary," Loveday replied. 

"No jumping from Brooklyn to Chicago, and from 
Chicago to Boston. This sort of thing may have been 
necessary by our relinquishment of the one- night 
places set down for us in the original plan of the tour ; 
but we'll reform that altogether." 

Then all the heads went down upon the chart ; and 
pencil-marks begin to appear, dotting out a route which 
began at Quebec, and traversed, by easy stages, Canada 
and the United States, — from Quebec to Toronto, from 
Toronto to New York, and thence to Chicago, and, by 
easy calls, back again to the Empire city. 

An hour or two later and the route was settled, 
Falser remarking, " It is the most complete and easiest 
tour that has ever been mapped out." 

" And we will begin it in the autumn of this year. 
We have sowed the seed ; we are entitled to reap the 
harvest. All my American friends say so ; and the 
great American play-going public would like me to do 



WASHINGTON, ETC. 415 

so. I am sure of it. My pulses quickened at the 
great cheer that went up at Boston when I said I 
hoped to come back this year. Let us consider it 
settled. We will come in September." 

The map was folded up, and the work of organizing 
the next tour was at once commenced. Telegraphic 
"feelers," in regard to "dates," had already been sent 
to the leading theatres. The best of them were ready 
to accept for the time proposed ; and a week or so 
later the business was settled. 

]Meanwhile we arrived at New York (the trees in 
Washington and Union squares, and Fifth avenue were 
crystal trees ; every house was coated with ice that 
sparkled under the electric lamps) , and the next day 
"Louis XI." was given at New Haven. The week was 
spent between this picturesque city and Worcester, 
Springfield, Hartford, and Providence. Only " Louis 
XL" and "The Bells" were played. Miss Terry taking 
a week's rest at Washington. The New England 
audiences were as cordial at these cities as they had 
been at Boston ; the critics interpreted their senti- 
ments. At Hartford, Mark Twain (S. L. Clemens) 
entertained Irving under his hospitable roof, and at 
Springfield there was a memorable gathering at the 
Springfield Club, — in fact, Irving was welcomed every- 
where with tokens of respect and esteem. One regrets 
that these pages and the time of the patient reader are 
not sufficiently elastic to allow of one devoting a vol- 
ume to the New England cities, so interesting as they 
are, historically and otherwise, from American as well 
as English points of view. 



416 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

VII. • 

Following the New England cities come the last of 
the return visits, — Philadelphia, Brooklyn,^ New York. 
They reindorsed the previous successes, and fully justi- 
fied the decision of a second visit next season. 

1 Mr. Heniy Irving and Miss Terry were teuclei'ed a reception by the 
Hamilton Club yesterday afternoon. The quaint old mansion on Clinton 
street was filled Ijetween the hours of three and five. The reception, which 
was informal, was held in the library on the second floor, an inviting 
apartment papered in old gold, with a frieze of olive-green with conven- 
tionalized flowers. The walls are lined with mahogany bookcases filled 
with well-bound books, largely historical. An oil painting of Alexander 
Hamilton, in an old-fashioned frame, hangs on the west hall, where it is 
lighted by the flickering gleams of the wood-fire in a tiled fireplace opposite. 
An antique chandelier, with imitation candles, completes the effect. 

At half-past three INIr. Ii-ving and Miss Terry were found in opposite 
corners of the room, each surrounded by an animated group. Miss Teriy, 
over whom some of the younger ladies were mad with cui-iositv, was com- 
pletely hemmed in, and was given no opportunity to move about, as Irving 
did. She sat during intervals in an old arm-chair, covered with red plush. 
She wore an artistic gown, with a Watteau plait. Her fair hair curled from 
beneath a round French hat, covered with brown velvet, and with a dark 
feather. At her neck was an eccentric scarf of orange-colored satin. Prior 
to the reception Mr. Irving and Miss Terry lunched with Mr. Samuel Mc- 
Lean, President of the club, at his residence, 47 Pierrepoint street ; among 
his fourteen guests being Mrs. Buckstone (his sister), Mr. and Mrs. liemy 
Ward Beecher, and Mr. and Mrs. John Foord. Those present at the club 
reception included Mr. and Mrs. Bryan H. Smith, Mrs. George Prentiss, 
Mr. and Mrs. Crowell Iladden, Mrs. S. C. Lynes, Mr. and Mrs. Chas. Ide, 
Mr. and Mrs. S. B. Chittenden, Captain McKenzie, Alex. Fonnan, Mr. and 
Mrs. Thomas Turner, Mr. and Mrs. Alex. Cameron, Mrs. F. P. Bellamy, 
Mr. and Mrs. William C. De Witt, Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Yeoman, Mr. and 
Mrs. Charles A. Bobbins, Mrs. llattie Otis, Amos Bobbins, A. F. Good- 
now, Mr. and Mrs. John T. Howard, INIr. and Mrs. Henry Sheldon, Mr. 
and Mrs. Charles Phelps, Mrs. Washington A. Boebling, Mrs. Packer, Mr. 
and Mrs. J. S. T. Stranahan, Mr. and Mrs. Josiah Low, John Winslcw, 
Mrs. P. Lynch, ]Mrs. Callender, Adrian Van Sindcren, John N. Peet, Mr. 
Bram Stoker and ]Mr. II. J. Loveday (of Mr. Irving's company), Mrs. 
Joseph Hatton and Miss Helen II. Hatton (of London), Miss Abbie O. 
Nichols, ]Mrs. John A. Buckingham, Mrs. Birch, Mr. and 'Mxs. N. W. C. 



WASHINGTON, ETC. 417 

One of the most interesting incidents of the second 
visit to Philadelphia was Irving's entertainment in 
the new rooms of the " Clover Club." ^ Accustomed to 
play the host, the club found itself in a novel position 

Hatch, Mr. and Mrs. Gordon L. Ford, the Rev. Dr. llutton, Mr. and Mrs. 
Geo. W. Mead and daughter, Mr. and INIrs. McKcan, Mr. and Mrs. F. W. 
Morse, Mv. and Mrs. Robert II. Turle, Mr. and Mrs. IVIackie, Charles Bill, 
Mrs. Hopes, Mr. and Mrs. John Foord, Mr. Samuel McLean, and Mr. and 
Mrs. Rodman. — Brooklyn Times, and Brooklyn Union, March 30. 

1 When Henry Irving was here, in December last, the "Clover Club '' 
tendered him a breakfast, and at that time he stated that when he returned to 
the city he hoped again to meet his genial hosts. Last night he kept his 
promise. Upwards of sixty gentlemen, members of the club, and friends 
whom lie had met elsewhere, were invited to take supper with him at the 
Bellevue, after the performance at the Chestnut-street Opera House, and 
the occasion was a most delightful one. The celebrated table of the club, in 
the shape of a four-leaved clover, was spread in the banqueting-hall. On it 
were two lofty forms of flowers, in the midst of which rose two fountains, 
throwing up crystal streams of water, which fell in spray over the blossoms. 
There were also several little plots of growing clover, shaped in the form of 
the quadrifoliate. The company did not assemble until after the per- 
formance of " Much Ado About Nothing." It was 11.30 when they were 
seated at the table, with Mr. Irving at the head. Among the many 
present were Ex-Gov. Hoyt, Dion Boucicault, Attorney-General Cassidy, 
Col. A. Loudon Snowden, A. K. McClure, M. P. Handy, J. II. Ileverin, 
Mr. Joseph Hatton and Mr. Montague Marks, from New York. The 
occasion Avas one long to be remembered. Mr. Irving, in proposing 
the toast of the " Clover Club," thanked the members for their hos- 
pitality, and Philadelphia for its welcome of him, and, with charac- 
teristic modesty, spoke of his tour through the country, the welcome 
which he had everywhere received, and the love of dramatic art which 
he found among the people. Mr. Handy rei^lied for the "Clover Club," 
with his customary felicitous eloquence, and concluded by informing 
Mr. Irving of his election as an honorary member of the club. While 
Mr. Irving was bowing his thanks Mr. Handy decorated him with the 
jewelled badge of membership. Dion Boucicault told how Mr. Irving, to 
his mind, had banished the pedestal actor from the stage, and presented 
IShakespeai-e as the dramatist himself would have wished to see his works 
given. Mr. A. K. McClure pointed out how the dramatic art had knit the 
Anglo-Saxon race in a close bond of union. Mr. Howe, the " old man " of 
Mr. Irving's company, gave some interesting reminiscences of how he, as a 
Quaker boy, and dressed in a Quaker garb, applied to Edmund Kean to be 



418 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

when it accepted that of guest. The occasion was one 
not likely to be forgotten in the annals of an institution 
which interprets the best and highest social instincts 
of an eminently hospitable city. The club-room was 
decorated with its characteristic taste. 

Mr. Dion Boucicault, in a brief address, spoke of the 
beneficent change which Irving had wrought in the 
methods of the English stage ; Mr. McClure, the popu- 
lar and powerful director of the "Times," thanked him, 
in the name of all lovers of art, for extending that ref- 
ormation to the American stage ; Col. Snowden depicted 
his high place in the history of the best civilization of 
America ; and Irving, while accepting with pride the 
honors which had been conferred upon him, defended 
the great actors of America's past and present from 
the criticism of several speakers, who complained of 
their adherence to what Boucicault called " the pedestal 
style" of acting Shakespeare. Irving described to them 
how, in years gone by, both England and America had 
possessed provincial schools of acting, in the stock com- 
panies that had flourished in such cities as Boston, 
New York, Philadelphia, Chicago, and other cities on 
one side of the Atlantic, and Bristol, Bath, Manches- 
ter, Birmingham on the other ; how these had been 
broken up by " combinations " in travelling companies ; 



allowed to go on the stage. Mr. Terriss, the leading man, gave a recita- 
tion. Dr. Bedloe offered a new version of Shakespeare's " Seven Ages," 
and before the close Miss Terry was toasted in a bumper of three times 
three. Seldom has such a merry party sat down to supper, and the even- 
ing, when it is brought to mind, will never call up any but the most delight- 
ful recollections. — The Day, Baltimore, and The Call, Philadelphia, 
March 20, 1SS4, 



WASHINGTON, ETC. 411) 

and how the leading actors of America had thus been dis- 
abled from presenting the dramas of the great masters in 
a manner they would, no doubt, have desired to present 
them. He said he had found similar difficulties in his 
own country ; but, actuated by the resolute purpose of a 
sense of duty to his art, and a devoted love for it, he 
had overcome them. For some eight or ten years he 
had worked with a company, trained with the object of 
interpreting, to the best of their ability, the work of 
the dramatist. They subordinated themselves to the 
objects and intentions of the play they had to illustrate, 
and only by such self-abnegations to the harmony of 
the entire play, he said, could anything like an ap- 
proach be made to the realization of a dramatic theme. 
He disclaimed any such ambition as to be ranked fore- 
most among the great actors whose names had been 
mentioned ; but he confessed to a feeling of intense 
satisfaction that America should have accepted with a 
generous, and he must say a remarkable, spontaneity, 
the methods which he had inaugurated at the Lyceum 
Theatre . 

Among other "sight-seeing" and calls which we 
made together in Philadelphia was a visit to Mr. 
Childs, at the "Ledger" office, and an hour or two 
spent at Independence Hall. Irving was much inter- 
ested in the new private office of Mr. Childs. Deco- 
rated in the so-called style of Queen Anne, it is a 
fine example of the progress in art which America has 
made within the past few years. "It contains many 
precious reminiscences of the Centennial Exhibition. 



420 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

A screen in front of the street windows is not the 
least artistic feature of the apartment. It is formed 
by six scpare pillars, witli arched openings, which, 
save the centre, arc closed to the height of three 
feet from the floor, the space between the back of 
these and the windows forming a kind of recess, where 
have been gathered some very valuable specimens of 
plastic and mechanical art. Over the screen, or ar- 
cade, are ten painted glass panels ; the centre one con- 
tains the portraits of Gutenberg, Faust, and SchoefFer, 
inventors of the art of printing with type ; the other 
four contain figures representing the art of book- 
making. The left-hand panel contains a sitting figure, 
intently engaged on an article for the press, which, 
with two figures, a man and a boy, the latter of singu- 
larly fine action, forms the second panel. Passing 
over the centre, the story is continued by the proof- 
reader, and concluded in the last panel, which repre- 
sents a standing figure perusing the finished book in 
the shape of a Bible, chained to a lectern. The centre 
panel of five smaller panels, over those just mentioned, 
exhibits Mr. Childs's motto, ^iV7/^^7 sine lahore' 
and on the remaining four, in old English, is painted 
the command, ^ Let there be light, and there was 
light.'" 

Mr. Childs is one of the best-known and one of the 
most popular journalists in the United States. His 
name is familiar to the newspaper men of England, and 
his ofiices are models, both as regards the mechanical 
departments and the rooms set apart for his editorial 



WASHINGTON, ETC. 421 

associates and writers. Mr. Cooke, the able and 
trusted correspondent of the "London Times," is the 
financial editor of the " Ledger." 

The porter at Independence Hall was glad to get the 
Enc^lish actor's signature in the visitor's book. From 
the moment that Irving entered the place he attracted 
more attention than even " the bell of liberty " itself. 
Long before American independence was even dreamed' 
of, this bell (originally cast at Whitechapel, London, and 
afterwards recast in Philadelphia) bore the inscription, 
"Proclaim Liberty throughout all the Land, to all 
the Inhabitants thereof! " Plaving taken in the his- 
toric room which was formerly the Judicial Hall of 
the English colony of Pennsylvania, Irving said, 
" How English it all is ! how typical of the revolt 
the portraits of these great fellows who headed it ! " 
Then he traced likeness to living Englishmen in several 
of the pictures. " One hundred and thirty portraits 
by one artist!" he exclaimed. "He has done wonder- 
fully, I think, to get such variety of style, and yet so 
much individuality." In modern days this chamber 
has been the scene of the lying-in-state of several 
prominent statesmen, on the way to burial. Among 
them were John Quincy Adams, Henry Clay, Abra- 
ham Lincoln. 

American history proudly recalls that "here, on the 
3d of November, 1781, twenty-four British standards 
and colors, taken from the army under Cornwallis, 
which had surrendered at Yorktown, were laid at the 
feet of Congress, amidst the shouts of the people and 
volleys of musketry, for they had been escorted to the 



422 IMFBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

door of the State-House by the volunteer cavahy of 
the city, and greeted by tke huzzas of the people." 
" But let us not forget," said an American speaker, dis- 
coursing on this theme at an Irving entertainment, 
"that we were all British until we had signed that 
Declaration of Independence ! " 



'BY TEE way:' 423 



XXI. 

''BY THE WAY." 

"My Name is Mulldoon, I live in the Twenty-fourth Ward" — Protective 
Duties and the Fine Arts — " The General Muster" — A Message from 
Kansas City — American Cabmen — Alarming Notices in Hotels — The 
Chicago Fire Service — What a Fire Patrol can do in a few Seconds — • 
Marshalling the Fire Brigades — William Winter — "Office Rules" — 
The Eeform Club and Politics — Enterprising Reporters — International 
Satire — How a Man of "Simple and Regular Habits " Lives — Secre- 
taries in Waiting — The Bisbee Murders — " Hunted Down " — Outside 
Civilization — "The Bazoo" — The Story of a Failure— A Texan 
Tragedy — Shooting in a Theatre — Evolutions of Towns. 



"Yes," said Irving, "I, too, have made a few notes 
of 'things to be remembered,' as we passed together 
some of the last proofs of these chronicles and im- 
pressions. For instance, here is a memorandum, 'Poli- 
tics ' ; and it refers to General Horace Porter's anec- 
dotical illustration of ward politics, and to Mr. Millett's 
letter on art and tariffs." 

"Let us take the story first," I suggested. 

We both remembered it ; so, likewise, will several 
American friends of that excellent raconteur^ Horace 
Porter, one of New York's brightest post-prandial 
orators. 

Irving had been making inquiries about the city 
government of New York, and remarking upon the 
curious little wooden houses away up at the further 
end of New York city. 



424 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

"Oh," said Porter, "tliose places belong to the last 
of the Manhattan squatters. Most of them are occupied 
by families, who, as a rule, pay little or no rent at all. 
They are on the outskirts of progress. As the city ex- 
tends into their district they disappear, seeking ' fresh 
woods and pastures new.' Nevertheless some of them 
become quite firmly established there. They are in- 
cluded, for voting purposes, in the Twenty-fourth ward 
of the city. The houses, as you have observed, are not 
architecturally beautiful. All the inhabitants keep fowls 
and animals in their basements or cellars. As a rule 
nobody repairs or attends to their abodes. Occasionally 
in wet weather they could bathe in their cellars. Re- 
cently one of the most important men in the district was 
a Mr. Mulldoon, whose very practical views of city poli- 
tics will be gathered by the story I am going to tell you, 
which also illustrates the local troubles from a sanitary 
point of view. Mulldoon's premises were flooded. He 
was advised to apply to the Commissioner of Public 
Works on the subject, and to use his political influence 
in the matter ; and he did. Entering the office of the 
commissioner, he said : — 

"^My name is IMulldoon. I live in the Twenty- 
fourth ward ; I conthrol forty votes there ; I kape hens ; 
the wather has inundated my cellar, and I want it 
pumped out at the public expinse.' 

"'We have no machinery to do that kind of work ; it 
does not belong to our department,' said the officer. 

" ' And be jabers if I don't get tliat wather removed it 
will go hard wid the party. I'll cast thim forty votes 
for a Dutchman.' 



?f t 



"5r THE way:' 425 

You had better go to the fire department.' 

Divil a bit ; it's the wather department I'm afther.' 

"'The fire department have appliances for pumping, 
we have not ; I recommend you to see the fire depart- 
ment.' 

"He does so. 

"Arrived at the proper officer's desk, he says, *My 
name is Mulldoon ; I live in the Twenty-fi)urth ward ; 
I conthrol fi^rty votes there ; I kape hens ; the wather 
has inundated my cellar, and 1 want it pumped out at 
the public expinse.' 

" ' The work does not belong to this department, 
Mr. Mulldoon ; we put out fires, not water. I ' — 

"'Indade,' said Mulldoon, calmly; ^thin let the 
party look to it, fi)r I'll rather cast thim fi)rty votes fior 
a nigger than Tammany Hall shall get wan o' them.' 

"*I was going to say, when you interrupted me, that 
you had better see the mayor, and get an appropriation 
for the sum necessary to be expended, and then you'll 
have the business done right away.' 

"* An appropriation, is it? Thank ye ! I've niver 
gone ag'in' my party ; but I object to having my hens 
drowned under my very roof.' 

" Going straight for the mayor, he said, ' Mr. Mayor, 
sorr, my name is Mulldoon ; I live in the Twenty- 
fourth ward ; I conthrol forty votes there ; I kape 
hens ; the wather has inundated my cellar, and I want 
it pumped out at the public expinse.' 

" ' I am sorry I cannot help you, Mr. Mulldoon ; 
but' — 

" * Not help me ! ' exclaimed the chief of the little 



426 IMFBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

caucus in the Twenty-fourth ward ; ^ then, by my soul, 
I'll cast them forty votes for a hathen Chinee ' — 

"^If you had not interrupted me, I was going to 
say that ' — 

" ' Oh, then, I beg Your Honor's pardon ; it is only 
just my bare rights that I am saking.' 

" ^ If you go to the Board of Aldermen and get an 
appropriation, and bring it to me, I will see that the 
work you claim shall be done.' 

"'Very well, then, and thank Your Honor,' said 
Mulldoon, who in due course presented liimself before 
the principal officer of the board, an Irishman hke 
himself, and having considerable power. 

" ' My name is Mulldoon ; I live in the Twenty- 
fourth ward ; I conthrol forty votes there ; I kape 
hens ; my cellar is inundated, and I want it pumped 
out at the public expinse. The mayor's sent me to 
you for an appropriation, and, by St. Patrick ! if you 
refuse it, divil a wan o' them votes will ye ever get. 
I'll cast them for a native American first ! ' 

" ' I don't see how I can get you an appropriation, 
Mr. Mulldoon.' 

"'You don't; well, then, the party may go to the 
divil, and Tammany Hall wid it ! I'm ag'in' the lot o' 
ye!' 

"'Don't lose your temper, Mr. Mulldoon, I'll see 
what can be done for you ; but, in the meantime, will 
you allow me to suggest that it would be less danger- 
ous for the party, considering the situation of your 
residence, if, in the future, you would arrange to 
keep ducks I ' " 



♦'^r TUE way:' 427 

II. 

"We liave not talked much about politics, eh? 
And a good thing, too. One only got really well into 
the atmosphere of political life at Washington ; and 
then, after all, one heard more about literary copyright 
than anything else. I find I have made a note of a 
letter I read somewhere recently from an American 
painter, in support of taxing importations of fine art, 
more particularly pictures. It seems to me this is a 
grave mistake. I had no idea that protection, as it is 
called, existed so generally in America." 

"You have here," I said, "the extreme of protective 
duties, as we in England have the other extreme of an 
unreciprocal free trade." 

" I can understand a reasonable protective tariff for 
a commercial industry ; but art should surely go free. 
For a country that as yet possesses no great school of 
painting nor sculpture of her own, to obstruct, nay, 
almost prohibit, the entry of foreign work, must be 
to handicap her own rising genius. The examples of 
the famous masters of Greece and Kome, of France, 
and Holland, and England, are necessary for the 
American student, and free traffic in the works of great 
modern artists would have an elevating tendency on 
public taste." 

" As a rule American artists are favorable to the free 
importation of foreign pictures. They favor it from 
your own stand-point, the educational point of view," 
I said. 

" Moreover, I can quite imagine American artists 



428 IMPItESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

who [ire permitted all the privileges of the art schools 
and galleries of Europe, and who sell their pictures in 
the Old World without lot or hindrance, being an- 
noyed at the inhospitality of their own country in this 
respect," he replied; "Boughton, Bierstadt, Whistler, 
and other well-known American painters, for exam- 
ple." 

''And so they are, no doubt." 

'* As a matter of fact public opinion in the United 
States, if it could be tested, would, I imagine, be on 
the side of admitting pictures, bric-a-brac, and books 
without duty ; though the progress of wliat is called 
the modern free-trade movement is likely rather to re- 
tard than advance the interests of a free importation of 
fine-art productions." 

" In what way?" he asked. "The leading idea of 
a great reduction of tariiFs is in the direction of aboli- 
tion for protective purposes, a tariff for revenue only. 
In that case luxuries only would be heavily taxed, and 
the so-called free-traders, who support this view, would 
probably count in pictures and bric-a-brac with luxu- 
ries." 

"I should call them necessities," Irving replied; 
" for the mind and the imagination require feeding just 
as much as the body. Besides, how are the Americans 
going to judge of the work of their own painters with- 
out comparison, and current daily comparison too, with 
foreign artists ? The stage is as much of a luxury as 
paintings. Why let the English actor and his artistic 
baggage and belongings come in? It is a pleasant 
thing to remember that, under all circumstances, 



"5F THE way:' 429 

whatever the troubles between the two countries, 
America has always welcomed English players, and 
that has given her some of the best theatrical fami- 
lies she has, — the Booths, JefFersons, Wallacks, and 
others. If the same enlightened policy in regard to 
painting, pottery, and hric-d-brac had been carried out 
in the matter of the stage, we should have seen just as 
fine an art appreciation applied to pictures as to plays 
and players. I am sure of it. If the musician and 
his works, if the opera, had been handicapped as art in 
other directions is, would America hold her high place 
in respect of choral societies, orchestral bands? And 
would she enjoy, as she does, the grand operas that are 
now produced in all her great cities? No. While, as 
you know, I claim no other credit for my method of 
presenting Shakespeare and the legitimate drama upon 
the stage than a performance of managerial duty, I 
am quite sure that, had European stage-art and artists 
been hampered for twenty years by restrictive taxes 
and other fiscal obstructions, the Lyceum Company 
and work would not have been welcomed as they have 
been, wherever we have pitched our tent. The same 
freedom for paintings would have made Watts, Millais, 
Tadema, Leighton, Pettie, Leader, Cole, Long, not to 
mention the works of earlier masters, as familiar here 
as at home, and would have crowded American homes 
with examples, original and copies, of the best schools 
of Europe. Would not that have helped American 
painters? Of course it would." 



430 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



III. 

"Your work among New England cities," I said, on 
his return visit to Brooklyn, " should impress upon you 
the grim quaintness of the story jMr. Emery Storrs 
told you concerning the annual festival called the 
'General Muster.'" 

"Yes; a queer story, was it not? And, no doubt, 
characteristic of some of the more remote little towns." 

This is the story : — 

The militia muster, once a year, is a celebration 
peculiar more particularly to New England. It is 
called the " General IMuster." Each little town comes 
in with its quota of militia ; the bands as numerous 
as the troops. They make a holiday of it. One after- 
noon an old couple on the hill-side of the little town go 
out to catch a glimpse of the festivities. They are old 
and alone, managing to drag a mere subsistence out of 
the sour soil. Their children have gone West, — a son 
here, a daughter there. They are content to spend 
the winter of their days in the old, hard nest where 
they have reared their young; old folks, so old! — 
parchment faces, bony hands. They totter to the town, 
and rest on the way in the cemetery, or church-yard, 
and look at the graves as such grizzly veterans will. 
One of the militia fellows, going home, — he had got 
fuddled rather earlier than usual , — sees them . " Hello ! " 
he shouts. " Go right back, right back, my friends ; 
this IS not the general resurrection, it is the general 
muster! " 

" By the way," said Irving, " did I tell you of the 



"^r TEE way:' 431 

amusing incident that occurred at Philadelphia? It 
was on the last night of the first visit. We were 
playing 'The Belle's Stratagem.' You know how 
difficult it is sometimes to keep the wings clear of 
people, — goodness knows who they are ! Well, my 
way was continually blocked by a strange-looking 
crowd. I remonstrated with them once, and they 
moved ; but they were back again. The cue for my 
entrance during the mad scene was at hand, as I said 
to these fellows, 'Who are you? What do you want?' 
'Basrffao^e ! ' exclaimed two of them, both in a breath. 
I did not know what the deuce baggage meant ; 
whether the reply was a piece of information or a 
piece of impertinence ; so I thought I would astonish 
them a little. Getting my cue on the instant, I stepped 
back a yard or two, and dashed in among them, yell- 
ing my entrance line, ' Bring me a pickled elephant ! ' 
They scattered right and left, and fell over each other ; 
but before they had time to defend themselves from 
what they evidently thought was a furious attack I v*^as 
on the stage." 

IV. 

I HAVE referred to the " theatre parties *' of ladies 
and gentlemen who travelled many miles by railway to 
be present at the Irving performances. Several in- 
vitations to visit distant cities were also ofiven, with 
guarantees of financial profit. Among these the most 
interesting and complimentary was a requisition from 
Kansas City, which is worth printing. I append it, 
with Irving's reply : — 



432 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA, 

Warwick Club, Kansas CiTr, Mo., Jan. 4, 1884. 
Mr. IIexky Irving : — 

Dear Sir, — We, the citizens of Kansas City, respectfully 
request that you honor this city and the AVcst with a profes- 
sional visit before your return to London. We hold in pro- 
found admiration your great histrionic ability and success in 
the legitimate drama, and your reputation as the leading rep- 
resentative of the English stage. 

We will endea\^or to make the season both pleasant and 
profitable to yourself and Miss Teny, the brilliant and accom- 
plished tragedienne. On behalf of one hundred members of 
the Warwick Club, 

Yours, respectfully, 

T. C. TEUEBLOOD, President. 
F. E. HOLLAOT), Secretary. 

Alden J. Buthen, ♦* Kansas City Journal"; Llorrison Mum- 
ford, "Kansas City Times"; George W. Warder, John Tay- 
lor, Smith & llieger, Holman & French, Robert Keith, Cady 
& Olmstead, D. Austin, George H. Conover, M. II. Shepard, W. 

B. Wright, John II. Worth, Woolf Bros., C. J. Waples, John 
Cutt, John Walmsley, John Sorg, J. V. C. Kames, Jos. 
Cahn, II. N. Eps, Milton Moore, R. O. Boggers, Gardiner 
Lathrop, B. R. Conkliu, W. R. Nelson, Homer Reed, Albert 

C. Hasty, L. E. Irwin, The Irwin & Eaton Ckg. Co., Meyer 
Bros. Drug Co., Charles L. Dobson, Fred Howard, James 
Scammon, A. Holland, II. T. Wri^iit, Jr., N. W. McLain, W. 
B. Grimes and W. B. Grimes Dry Goods Co., Charles S. 
Wheeler & F. II. Underwood, Merchants' Nat'l Bank, A. W. 
Atmour, W. II. Winants, Henry J. Lotshaw, Web. Withers, 
W. A. M. Vaughan, B. O. Christakker, F. B. Nopinger, John 
W. Moore, W. H. Miller, Charles E. Ilasbrook, II. H. Craige, 
Levi Hammersleigh, B. R. Bacon, Morse Bros. & Co. 

My dear Sir, — Your invitation, on behalf of one hundred 
members of the Warwick Club, is one of the most gratifying 
incidents of a very pleasant tour. I cannot sufficiently thank 
you for the compliment it conveys to myself, to my sister in 
art, iMiss Terry, and to my entire company. We shall all of 
us treasure it as a delightful memory of the West, and, for my 
own part, I shall never be content until I can respond to it as 



"^r THE way:' 433 

1 wish. I hope the day is not far distant when I may be able 
to visit you and your interesting city. I regret, however, that, 
so far as tlie present tour is concerned, Mr. Abbey finds it 
impossible to change our programme so as to make it fit your 
most kind and hospitable invitation. 
With sincere thanks and good wishes, in which Miss Terry 

joins, 

I am, 

HENRY IRVING. 
St. Louis, January 7. 



"One tiling I notice about the American cabmen 
and drivers generally," said Irving, — "they do not chaff 
each other as the London men in the same positions do. 
They don't appear to be cheerful ; don't discuss among 
themselves the news of the day ; they treat each other 
as if they were strangers. English people, as a rule, 
complain of the cab-fares here ; but they forget, on the 
other hand, to say that the cabs, or coup6s, as they 
call them, are beautifully appointed vehicles ; private 
broughams, in fact. The only inconvenience is, that 
unless you make a bargain with a driver beforehand he 
may charge you, it seems, what ho likes. Against 
that, again, is this set-ofF: you can order your cab 
at your hotel, or your club, and have it charged in 
your bill, and in that case there is no extortion. Each 
leading hotel and club has telephonic communication 
with livery stables : and what a comfort that is ! Then 
the messenger system, — one almost wonders how we 
do without it in London. If London can give New 
York ' points ' in some things, New York can certainly 
return the compliment.'* 



434 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

Asked by a Boston journalist^how he considered he 
had been treated by his American critics," Irving said, 
" I am exceedingly gratified by the intelligent and fair 
manner in which I have been treated by the press 
wherever I have gone. The Boston critics have been 
just and generous to me. Of course I read what the 
press has to say of my work, and, while I think it is 
not the proper province of an actor to criticise his crit- 
ics, I will say generally that I have been pleased to 
note in how very few instances I have had to encounter 
on this side of the Atlantic anything in the nature of 
personal or petty feeling. I have been struck, too, by 
the power, vigor, and critical acumen which your lead- 
ing papers, both here and elsewhere, have displayed in 
passing judgment upon my work and that of my com- 
pany. I have a feeling that an actor should be content 
with what he gets, and that it is his duty to accept 
patiently any reproach, and to profit by it if he can. 
After all, criticism, if unjust, never harms a man ; be- 
cause any final appeal is always to the public, and, 
if any wrong is done, their ultimate judgment invari- 
ably corrects it." 

VI. 

The " Southern Hotel," at St. Louis, displayed promi- 
nently engraven upon a tablet, near the principal stair- 
case, the dates when it had been burned down and 
rebuilt. The " Tremont," at Chicago, recorded on its 
handsome new building the fact that it had been de- 
stroyed by fire, Oct. 27, 1839; July 9, 1849; and 
Oct. 9, 1871. "Having dwelt upon these dates with 



BY THE way:' 435 



a little misgiving," said a member of Mr. Irving's com- 
pany, "some of us felt almost alarmed when, on closing 
our bedroom doors, a card headed ' Fire ! ' printed in red 
ink, attracted our attention. I have asked permission 
to carry one of them away with me, thinking you 
would like to have it." The notice is as follows: — 

FIEE! FIRE! FIRE! 

There have been placed in the halls of the Tremont House 
GONGS, which will be rung by electricity, as an 

ALARM IN CASE OF FIRE. 

They are under control of the office, and will be set going 
INSTANTLY, on the slightest alarm, and continue to ring. 

This ringing, with the system of calling each room by 
watchmen stationed on the floors, will insure the speediest 
alarm to guests it is possible to give in case of accident. 

On being awakened, guests and employes will protect 
themselves, each other, and property, to the greatest possible 
extent. 

There are four red lanterns in each hall, at the comers, 
showing the Stairways, and at the End of every Corridor out- 
side the building there are iron ladder fire-escapes to the 
ground. 

Passage along the halls and corridors, if dark and filled 
with smoke, can be made by crawling close to the floor with 
the face covered, to prevent the inhalation of smoke and con- 
sequent sufi'ocation. 

From the Roof and the three stories below it there is access 
from the service stairs to the tops of the adjoining buildings, 
making a Way of Escape over the roofs, from Dearborn to 
State street, — a full block. 

JOHN A. RICE & Co. 

The fire service at Chicago is, no doubt, the finest and 
most complete organization in the world. Situated as 



436 IiMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

the city is, on a vast plain, with prairie winds and lake 
winds that sweep the entire country for hundreds of 
miles without obstruction, the fire department has to 
consider, not only the question of exiinguishing a con- 
flagration, but protecting the property adjacent to a fire 
from ignition, in regard to which it has a series of wise 
precautionary measures. In former days Chicago, like 
many other American cities, was largely built of wood, 
and there are still outlying districts of timber houses. 
There are also enormous lumber-yards in Chicago, 
which are a source of danger during fires that rage 
when a high wind is blowing. Not long since Capt. 
Shaw gave an exhibition to a royal party in London, 
demonstrating how quickly the engines and fire-escapes 
can be signalled and despatched to a fire. So far as I 
remember the time was about fifteen minutes. In Chi- 
cago they take less than as many seconds to complete a 
similar operation. The system of fire-alarms in all 
American cities is superior to ours, and the arrangements 
for starting ensure far more expedition. We have a less 
number of fires in England, many conflagrations tak- 
ing place in America through carelessness in connection 
with the furnaces that are used for heating the houses ; 
then shingle roofs are not uncommon in America ; and 
in England the party-walls that separate houses are, as 
a rule, thicker and higher. This was the explanation 
which the American consul gave me at Birmingham, Eng- 
land, recently, for the fact that during a whole year in 
Birmingham (with a population equal to Chicago) every 
fire that had occurred had been extinguished with a 
hand-engine and hose ; it had not been necessary in a 



''BY TEE way:' 437 

single case to use the steam-engines. In Chicago and 
other cities the electric signal announcing a fire at the 
same time releases the horses that are tethered close to 
the engines, alarms the reclining (sometimes sleeping) 
firemen in their bunks above, withdraws the bolts of 
trap-doors in the floor ; and by the time the horses are 
in the shafts and harnessed the men drop from their 
bunks upon the engine. From a calm interior, oc- 
cupied by an engine with its fire banked up, and one 
attendant officer, to a scene of bustle and excitement 
with an engine, fully equipped, dashing out into the 
street, is a transformation sufficiently theatrical in its 
effect to make the fortune of an Adelphi drama. 

I once engaged to time the operation with a stop- 
watch, and before I was fairly ready to count the sec- 
onds the engine was in the street and away. These 
exhibitions of skill, speed, and mechanical contrivance 
can be seen every day at the quarters of the Fire Insur- 
ance Patrol. Chief Bulwinkle is one of the most oblig- 
ing of officers, and many a famous English name has 
been inscribed in his visitor's book.^ 



1 The head-quarters of the Fire-insurance Pati'ol, are eighty-five feet 
"wide and one hundred feet long. The first floor or room is sixteen feet 
eight inches high, with black walnut and maple wainscoting. In the 
front of the room there are two pairs of stairs, one each side. Under 
these are the horses' stalls. Between the stairs and stalls is the patrol- 
wagon, the pole of which is ten feet from the front doors, which open 
out in a vestibule by electricity, and are held by weights. On the right 
of the room, as you enter, are all the telegraphic instruments connected 
with the patrol, with no Avires visible ; a raised panelled black-walnut 
wall, consisting of the Electric Mercurial Fire- Alarm, which is connected 
with seventy different business buildings, concealing the wires. This is a 
system which gives the alarm automatically, giving the exact location of 
the fire in any building. Over this annunciator is a large clock. On 



438 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



The method of marshalling the forces of the various 
brigades in case of a serious fire is interesting. Mar- 
shal Swenie explains it in a few words, in answer to a 
journalistic inquiry : — 

" ^ There is at each fire-station a running-card in con- 
nection with a particular fire-alarm box. All these 
brigades act on the first alarm. If the fire is in the 
crowded and costly part of the city not only do the 
nearest companies go to the fire, but the companies 
farther off move up. Suppose, for instance, that there 
is a fire at State and Madison streets, and there are four 

panels, on the right and left of the above, are two gongs, one giving the 
fii'e-alarms from the city, the other connected with the Mercui-ial Fire- Alarm 
Annunciator. Under one gong there are thi-ec small gongs, one connect- 
ing directly with the Western Union Telegraph Office, one with Marshall, 
Field, & Co.'s retail store, and the other with the City Fire Department. 
In another panel are the American District Telegraph connections. In the 
ceiling over the wagon is a large reflecting gas-light, which shines directly 
over the horses when hitching. Just in the rear of the reflector arc three 
traps, that work automatically when an alarm is received, opening the floors 
on the second stoiy, and ceiling of the first, to enable the driver and assist- 
ants to have easy access to their seats ; two other members, who sleep on 
the second floor, make use of the same means of ready exit. The same 
telegraphic instrument sets in motion appliances which take off the bed- 
clothing from ten beds on the second floor, and four berths on the first, 
relieving the men from all incumbrances in an instant. On the second floor 
is the dormitory for the men, which is carpeted with Enghsh body Brus- 
sels. There arc heavy black-walnut bedsteads, with F. I. P. caiTcd in 
headboard, inlaid with gold. The front part of this room is partitioned off 
and used as Captain Bulwinkle's room, which is carpeted with Wilton car- 
pet, bordered with white, papered and frescoed on all sides in handsome 
style. Conspicuous here arc white marble mantels and grates. On a table 
in the centre of this room is an album, with autographs of noted people 
from all parts of the world who have been visitors, and left their names as 
a testimonial of the excellent qualities of this department. The time re- 
quu'cd by this patrol to get out of bed, dress, hitch the horses, and get out 
of the building, is four and one-half seconds. — Stranger's Guide to the 
Garden City. 



^^BY TEE way:' 439 

engine-houses in a straight line, extending in any direc- 
tion to the city limits, and a mile apart. We will call 
the company nearest the fire No. 1, the next, No. 2, the 
next. No. 3, and the one farthest away. No. 4. Now, 
when No. 1 goes to the fire. No. 2 goes to the engine- 
house of No. 1 and takes possession; No. 3, in like 
manner, takes possession of No. 2's house, and No. 4 
of No. 3'8 house. If there is a second alarm, No. 2 
goes to the fire ; No. 3 takes No. I's house, and No. 4 
takes No. 3's house. If there is a third alarm. No. 3 
goes to the fire, and No. 4 takes No. I's house. More- 
over, what is done in that one direction is done in 
every direction." 

" ' What is the object of this ? ' asks the interviewing 
reporter from whom I borrow Marshal Swenie's infor- 
mation. 

" ^ The object is to watch most closely the most valu- 
able part of the city. A fire in the heart of the city 
destroys a hundred times as much property in a given 
time as a fire in the outskirts ; therefore we ari-ange 
things so that if any part is to be left without protec- 
tion it shall be the sparsely settled part.' 

" ' Who directs the operation of extinguishing a fire?' 

" * The captain of the company that arrives first on the 
ground takes command of all the companies that arrive 
after his until a chief of a battalion arrives ; and the 
chief takes command until the marshal or assistant 
marshal arrives.' 

"'What is the position of the commanding officer at 
a fire ? ' 

"*In front of the fire. By the front I mean to the 



440 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

leeward. A fire is always driven by the wind in one 
particular direction, and the marshal or commanding 
officer will always be found, therefore, where the fire is 
the hottest.' 

" ' How do you communicate your orders in such a 
noise and excitement as there were, for instance, at the 
Bradner Smith & Co. fire?' 

" ' Partly by messengers and partly by signals. The 
signals, however, are very few, and are made with a 
lantern. If the lantern is moved up and down it 
means that more pressure is needed on the stream ; if 
it is moved horizontally it means that less is needed ; 
and if it is swung around in a circle it means "take 
up," or stop work altogether.' 

" ' What does the whistling of the engine mean ? ' 

"'It means that they need more coal. They take 
with them fuel enough to last them half an hour, and 
by that time the coal- wagons are due.' 

" ' Do you ever have any difficulty with your men on 
the score of cowardice ? ' 

" ' Not any ; but I have a world of difficulty in the 
other direction. The ambition, rivalry, and esprit du 
corps of the force are so great that I have the greatest 
difficulty in restraining the men from throwing away 
their lives in the most reckless manner. If I ever need 
to have a man go into a very dangerous position all I 
have to do is to send two there. As soon as they start 
each one insists on going a few feet farther than the 
other, and the result is that both of them become 
willing to walk into the fire. There is also very little 
shirking in the force. Once in a long time a man gets 



"i5r THE way:' 441 

suspected of shirking, and the way that is cured is, he 
is given the pipe to hold at every fire, and four men 
are put behind him to shove him in.' 

" ' What are the greatest obstacles to be overcome in 
extincruishinG; a fire ? ' 

" ' Smoke and hot air. I have known the air in burn- 
ing buildings to get so hot that two inhalations of it 
would kill a man. As to smoke, we use a kind of 
respirator ; but it doesn't do a great deal of good. Our 
main hope is in ventilating the premises and letting out 
the smoke. If it wasn't for the smoke it would be very 
easy to put out fires.' 

" ^ Do you find that a fireman is short-lived ? ' 

"'I can't say I do. So far as I can see they are a 
healthy, long-lived class, when they don't get mangled 
and killed at their work.' " 



VII. 

" Do you remember the poetic speech, in verse and 
prose, that William Winter^ made at the banquet in 
Lafayette place ? " I asked. 

1 William Winter is probably best knowa in America and England as 
the accomplislied and scholarly critic of the "New York Tribune." As 
an authority on the drama he holds in New York a similar position to that 
which the late John Oxenford held on the " Times." While there are 
other professional ci'itics in the Empire city who write admirably, and with 
the authority of knowledge and experience about the stage, William Winter 
is the only one among them Avho has made for himself a prominent name 
apart from the paper with which he is associated. There is no other critic 
sufficiently well-known to be entitled to have his name mentioned in news 
cables or telegrams aside from the journal which engages his pen. Winter 
has broken through the anonymous chai-acter of his journalistic work as 
successfully as Oxenford and Sala. He is the author of several volumes 



442 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

" Yes, indeed," Irving replied. " The two stanzas 
with which he introduced it were singularly musical, 
I thought." 

" Here they are. I wanted him to write out the 
heads of his speech for me ; but he had only written 
down his verses, and here they are, as dainty as they 
are fraternal. 



' If we could -win from Shakespeare's river 

The music of its murmuring flow, 
With all the wild-bird notes that quiver 

Where Avon's scarlet meadows glow; 
If we could twine with joy at meeting 

Their prayers who lately grieved to part, 
Ah, then, indeed, our song of greeting 

Might find an echo in his heart ! 



*' 'But since we cannot in our singing 

That music and those prayers entwine, 
At least, we'll set our blue-bells ringing. 

And he shall hear our whispering pine ; 
And there shall breathe a welcome royal, 

In accents tender, sweet, and kind. 
From lips as fond and hearts as loyal 

As any that he left behind.'" 

Among the curious notices, serious and humorous, 
which were posted in the offices and dressing-rooms of 
the various theatres, the following satirical regulations 
are somewhat incongruous when considered with the 

of lyrics ; he is the biographer of the JefiFersons ; and since Washington 
Irving nothing more charming has been written about " the old country " 
than his " Trip to England." 



"^r TEE way:' 443 

handsome furniture which generally belongs to mana- 
gerial rooms in America : — 

OFFICE RULES. 

1. Gentlemen entering this office will please leave the 
door open. 

2. Those having no business should remain as long as 
possible, take a chair and lean against the wall, — it will pre- 
vent it falling upon us. 

3. Gentlemen are requested to smoke, particularly during 
office hours. Tobacco and cigars will be furnished. 

4. Spit on the floor, — the spittoons are merely for orna- 
ment. 

5. Talk loud or whistle, particularly when we are en- 
gaged ; if this does not have the desired effect, sing. 

6. Put your feet on the table, or lean against the desk; it 
will be a great benefit to those who are using it. 

7. Persons having no business with this office will please 
call again when they can't stay so long. 



Yin. 

" Will you please tell me about the report, cabled 
from London to the American press, that you propose 
to stand for Parliament, in the Liberal interest, on your 
return to England?" asked a journalistic interviewer, 
at Boston. 

" I can only say that the report is entirely unfounded. 
It arose, I imagine, from my election to the Reform 
Club. You know they do occasionally elect out-of-the- 
way fellows, such as I am, in the matter of politics. 
The welcome news reached me last night in my dress- 
ing-room at the theatre. To be elected in my absence 
adds to the pleasure of the thing. I have only that 



444 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

interest in politics which all honest men should have, 
but it exists only under my own roof. I do not think 
ariists should mix up in politics. Art is my vocation, 
and I confine my self to it." 

"Then, I assume, you have never cherished political 
aspirations." 

" Oh, no, never ! In fact I should be totally unfit 
for Parliament. I am not eloquent, and should be unfit 
in other ways. We do not look upon politics in Eng- 
land as you do here. Here political life is an avenue to 
office and to emoluments, in a broader and deeper sense 
than is possible in England, and many choose the law 
as a profession with a view to politics. Do they not? 
It is not so with us. A seat in the House of Commons, 
as a rule, involves great expense, as well as a claim 
upon a man's time ; and he may sit there all his life, if 
he is returned often enough, and spend every year a 
large income, socially in London, and locally on 
charities, hospitals, reading-rooms, churches and 
chapels, among his constituents. We do not pay our 
representatives salaries ; and I believe, particularly in 
the country, the constituencies watch with the greatest 
jealousy every vote a member records. The House 
of Commons is not a bed of roses." 

I have said, in a previous chapter, that the trouble 
in respect to the new form of journalism in some of the 
cities of the United States is, that the reader is left too 
much in doubt as to the truth of the daily chronicles. 
The Chicago reporter, who held up the " interviews " 
of other journals as more or less " bogus," would him- 
self have found it difficult in this respect to winnow the 



-i?r THE way:' 445 

chaff from the wheat. At St. Louis a reporter professed 
to have taken an engagement as a " super " in the Irving 
Company. He wrote a description of " behind the 
scenes " in that capacity, but " gave himself away," by 
making all the company, from the leading actor down 
to the call-boy, drop their h's. The American reporter's 
leading idea when burlesquing the English is to take 
every h out of a Britisher's conversation, and even to 
make the Quean herself drop the aspirate or misuse it ; 
for instance, here is a summary of the royal speech on 
the opening of Parliament, which appeared in a Phila- 
delphia journal : " We're pretty well, I thank you, and 
we 'opes to remain so, we does." If in our stage and 
journalistic satire we make Jonathan "guess," " calka- 
late," and "lick all creation, you bet," he "gets even" 
with " yahs, deah boy," and "'ow har' you," and " 'pon 
my 'onor, don't cher know?" But, referring back to 
the many imaginary interviews and fictitious sketches of 
Irving and his life behind the scenes, here is an extract 
from an account of "Irving's day," which appeared in 
one of the light-headed dailies, that is, in some respects, 
truer than I dare say any of its readers believed it to 
be. The introduction of " the secretaries" is worthy of 
"Punch," and in its earnestness funnier than some of the 
great humorist's sketches of the Irving tour in America. 
Here are the leading points of the article : — 

THE METHODICAL WAY IN WHICH IRVING PASSES HIS TIME. 

Henry Irving is a man of simple, but regular, habits. lie has 
gained the hearts of everybody in the Bellevue, from the pro- 
prietor to the bell-boy, by his courteous demeanor and Ms 
desire to give as little trouble as possible. He rises at nine 



446 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

o'clock, and drinks a cup of coffee with milk. Breakfast is 
served in his private sitting-roora at ten o'clock, consisting 
of tea, boiled eggs, and some other simple dish. The eggs 
he cooks himself in a little spirit-lamp arrangement of his 
own. He eats the meal alone, and glances at his mail while at 
table. The budget of coiTespondence is usually large, and in- 
cludes letters from all over the world. After breakfast one or 
two secretaries pay their respects to him, and receive his in- 
structions in regard to the replies to the missives. The daily 
papers are then carefully read, and any visitors who call are 
received. 

Between twelve and one he leaves the hotel, generally in a 
carriage, and always accompanied by a secretary. The theatre 
is the first destination. In everything concerning the stage 
arrangements, indeed, even the most minute details, Mr. 
Ii'ving is consulted. A skye-terrier is also a persistent com- 
panion of the English actor, and follows wherever he goes. 

Mr. Irving dines at 3.30. A course-dinner is served, — 
oysters, soup, fish, a cutlet, and a bird. Canvas-back duck has 
a preference among the feathery food. He dines by himself, 
does his own carving, and dismisses the servants as soon as the 
dishes are placed in front of him. From the dinner hour until 
he goes to the theatre he is denied to everybody. No matter 
whose card arrives for him there is no passport for the paste- 
board through the portals of the actor's apartments. The 
interval after dinner is passed in study and meditation. Mr, 
Irving is, above all, a student, and every gesture and motion 
he makes on the stage have been previously considered, and a 
reason found for the change of position or features. 

After the theatre Mr. Irving throws off the restraint of the 
day, and sups at his ease with some of his friends. A secretary 
or tv/o are included in the party. Supper lasts sometimes 
until two or three in the morning. Last Sunday, when Attor- 
ney-General Brewster Avas Mr. Irving's guest, it was three A.M., 
before the party exchanged adieux. 

Among the visitors who have called on Mr. Irving, Viscount 
Bury, James McHenry, and General Collis were among the 
favored ones who were admitted to audience. Scores of invi- 



*'57 THE way:' 447 

tations for every kind of entertainment have overwhelmed him, 
keeping three or fom* of his secretaries busy with writing his 
expression of regrets. 

When Irving was at Philadelphia he had a young 
English friend visiting him. The waiter (who was 
evidently in the confidence of the local reporter, or 
might have been the reporter himself masquerading 
as a waiter) pressed him in as a secretary. Abbey's 
manager, Mr. Falser, Mr. Stoker, Mr. Loveday, and 
another friend, a resident of Philadelphia, were all 
promoted to the secretarial office. There is a sub- 
lime touch of unconscious satire in this staff of secre- 
taries, engaged upon the work of answering Irving's 
letters, which will be particularly appreciated in Lon- 
don, where that one special sin of his — neglecting to 
answer letters — is even commented upon in learned 
reviews. The after-dinner "study and meditations" 
is " Jeamcs's" view of the siesta, which is a needful in- 
cident of every actor's day. The data of the sketch 
being fairly correct, the bona fides of it, from the re- 
porter's point of view, make it interesting as well as 
characteristic of the " personal " character of some of 
the clever news journals of the day. 



IX. 

One day, during " this interval after dinner," which 
is "passed in study and meditation," Irving said, 
" Have you followed out all the story of the Bisbee 
nmrderers ? " 

"Yes," I said. "It is one of those strange cases 



448 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

of lawlessness, that I have taken out of the newspapers 
for my scrap-book. Charles Reade^ would have been 
interested in it. Have you ever seen liis scrap-books?" 

"No," said Irving ; "are they very remarkable?" 

" Yes, and in my slovenly attempts to save newspaper 
cuttings I often think of him. I once spent a whole day 
with him, looking over his journalistic extracts, and he 
was lamenting all the time the trouble involved in their 
arrangement and indexing. He subscribed to many 
odd out-of-the-way newspapers for his collections. If 
he had ever visited America he would have been 
tempted to make a very formidable addition to his list. 

"Do you know the beginning of the Bisbee busi- 
ness ? I have only seen the account of the hunting down 
of one of the murderers, which has interested me 
tremendously. Have you seen any accounts of the 
capture ? " 

"No." 

" Well, then, curiously enough I have received a 
San Francisco 'Chronicle,' with the entire story of it, 
and I believe it is worth putting into the book. Can 
you tell me the nature of this crime ? " 

" Yes. One day several strangers arrived suddenly in 
the little town of Bisbee, on the outskirts of Western 
civilization. They went into the principal store, shot 



^ Among the cablegrams that cast English shadows upon the tour was 
the announcement of Charles Eeade's death. This had already been pre- 
ceded by obituary notices of Blanchard Jen-old. It was followed, at a lator 
date, by the chronicle that Henry J. Byron had also "joined the majorit}-." 
The sudden death of the Duke of Albany was chronicled by the leading 
American newspapers, with touching sentiments of sympathy for the 
Queen of England. 



"5r TEE way:' 449 

down the owner of it, fired at anybody they saw on the 
street, killed a woman who was passing the store, and, 
having generally, as it were, bombarded the little town, 
left as mysteriously as they came. That is briefly the 
story, as it was repeated to me a week ago by Dr. Gil- 
man, of Chicago, who has recently returned from the 
scene of the tragedy, and other mining camps and towns, 
about which he entertained me with a dozen almost 
equally startling stories." 

"Well," said Irving, "the hunt after these Bisbee 
ruffians is about as dramatic an episode of police work 
as I ever came across. A reward being offered for the 
chief of the gang who raided Bisbee, it was soon dis- 
covered that ' Big Dan,' a notorious ruffian, was the 
criminal. The entire business was after his most ap- 
proved method, and it was finally proved, beyond doubt, 
that this was the latest of ' Big Dan Dowd's ' crimes. 
On the 6th of January, Deputy Sheriff Daniels 
brought him in custody into Tombstone, and this is the 
story of the capture : — 

" ' On December 23, Daniels learned in Bisbee, from 
some Mexicans just in from Sonora, that two men, 
answering the description of ' Big Dan ' and Billy De- 
laney, were in Bavispe, Sonora. This place will be 
remembered as the point from which Crook started on 
his trip into the defiles of the Sierra Madre, and lies on 
the western slope of that range. Satisfying himself 
that the information furnished by the Mexicans was 
correct, Daniels communicated with the sheriff's office, 
and, after making all necessary arrangements, started, 
on the morning of December 26, for that place. Ac- 



450 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

companying the officer was a Mexican named Lucero, 
on whom Daniels knew he could rely as a guide and a 
fighter. On the morning of the 30th , after a ride of about 
two hundred miles, Daniels and his two companions 
(he having picked up another Mexican at Frontera) 
reached Bavispe. Here it was learned that Delaney 
and Dowd had separated five days previously, Dowd 
remaining in Bavispe, which point he had left that 
morning, about an hour prior to the arrival of Daniels 
and his posse. Additional inquiries elicited the infor- 
mation that Dowd had struck across the Sierra Madre for 
Janos, in the State of Chihuahua, distant about seven- 
ty-five miles. After taking a short rest, and perfecting 
plans for the capture of Delaney, the officer started in 
pursuit of the other bandit. 

" ^ The route of travel led through the defiles of the 
Sierra Madre, by rocks and precipitous trails, and it 
was not until the morning of January 1 that Daniels 
reached Janos, where he learned, as at Bavispe, that 
the bird had flown, having left Janos a few hours ahead 
of him for Coralitos, distant about twenty-seven miles. 
Procuring fresh horses, the posse started at once for 
Coralitos, which place was reached about eight o'clock 
that evening. The town is in the centre of a mining 
country, and is composed principally of Mexicans, 
there being but half-a-dozen Americans in the place. 
The whole neighborhood, as described by Daniels, 
seems to belong to the Coralitos Mining Company, of 
which Ad ]Menzenberger is superintendent. Daniels 
went at once to him, and communicating the object of 
his visit, learned that ^ Big Dan 'had arrived a short 



''BY THE way:' 451 

time previously, and was then in what was known as the 
house of the Americans. The superintendent, having 
learned the character of Dowd, was only too willing 
to assist in his capture, and, under the cover of dark- 
ness, he and Daniels proceeded to the house. Prior to 
reaching it, it was agreed that tjie superintendent 
should enter in advance of Daniels, in order to prevent 
any interference by the Americans who were in his em- 
ploy, in the capture of Dowd. 

" ^ As agreed the superintendent entered the room first, 
with Daniels at his heels. Dowd was sitting on a table 
facing the fire, and the rest of the party were scattered 
about the room. On the table was standing, also, a bot- 
tle of whiskey, which had not been uncorked. Every- 
thing indicated that Dowd had no idea of the presence 
of an officer, and was preparing for a jolly night with 
his companions. He did not even look around when the 
men entered the room, and his first knowledge that he 
was in the clutches of the law was when Menzenber- 
ger, who had reached his side, caught hold of his arms, 
and throwing them above his head, said, ' Throw up 
your hands.' Daniels, at the same time, with a cocked 
pistol in each hand, made the demand to surrender. A 
word from the superintendent to the Americans present 
showed Dowd, who was unarmed at the time, that he 
was powerless to escape, and he quietly submitted to 
beino^ manacled. Daniels remained until the folio wino^ 
morning, when he was furnished with an ambulance 
and escort by the superintendent, and driven to San 
Jose station, on the line of the Mexican Central Rail- 
road, one hundred and ten miles distant, and about 



452 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

ninety miles south of El Paso del Norte. Here he tele- 
graphed to Sheriff Ward of the capture, and, putting 
his prisoner on board the train, started for home. 
Upon nearing Paso del Norte, he feared that Dowd 
might raise a question of extradition, and put him to 
much trouble ; so he made arrangements with the rail- 
road officials, and, together with his prisoner, was locked 
in the express car until reaching the American line.'" 
Irving recited most of the " Chronicle's " narrative. 
The close, terse particulars of its details leave sufficient 
color of surroundings to the imagination of the reader. 

X. 

"Tombstone," he said presently, "is a curious 
name for a town." 

" Some friends of mine," I said, " have business inter- 
ests there. It got its name in this way : a party of 
young pioneers decided to go there on a prospecting 
expedition. They were ridiculed, and told by another 
party, who had refused to join them, that all they would 
find would be a tomb. The adventurers, however, 
discovered mineral treasures, of enormous extent, 
started a town, and, as a derisive answer to their pro- 
phetic friend, called it Tombstone. This is the story 
of only a few years. Tombstone is now a prosperous 
community, and has a daily paper. What do you 
think its title is?" 

"I cannot guess." 

" Eugene Field, a journalist whose name is well- 
known throughout the West, gave me a copy of it only 
yesterday." 



'BY TEE WAF:' 



453 



I went to my room and brought down a well-printed 
four-page paper, entitled " The Tombstone Epitaph." 

" And not a funny paper at all," said Irving, ex- 
amining it ; "a regular business-like paper, newsy and 
prosaic, except for the short literary story and the poem 
that begin its pages." 

" Mr. Field gave me some remarkable newspaper 
trophies of these mining towns, that may be said to grow 
up outside the pale of civilization, to be eventually in- 
corporated into the world of law and order. Here, 
for instance, is a placard issued by ' The Bazoo,' a 
newspaper published at the little town of Sedalia ; — 

BAZOO NEWS TRAIN! 

— to — 

NEVADA, MO., 

Friday, December 28, 1883. 



DILL FOX'S PUBLIC EXECUTION 
For the murder of Tom Howard, at Nevada, Mo., May 20, 1883. 



The " Sedalia Bazoo " has chartered a special train, which 
will run lo Nevada from Joplin on that day. Leaving Jopling 
at 8.10 o'clock A.M., and returning in thirty minutes after the 
death-scene at the gallows. 



Time-table. 

Leave Joplin, 
" Webb City, 
•' Edwin, 
*' Carthage, 
" Carey, 
* ' Jasper, 
♦' Carleton, 
*' Lamar, 
*' Irwin, 
" Sheldon, 
" Milo, 

Arrive Nevada, 



8.10 


A.M 


8.25 


a 


8.43 


(( 


8.63 


(4 


9.05 


<( 


9.15 


(« 


9.27 


(( 


9.40 


tt 


9.57 


(t 


10.07 


(( 


10.35 


it 


10.20 





Rates of Fare for 
Hound Trip. 

$2.00 
1.75 
1.50 
1.45 
1.25 
1.10 

.95 

.75 

.CO 

.50 

.25 



454 IMPRESSIONS OF AMEBIC A. 

1^* Tickets for Sale at the Depot. ..^ 
Returning, the train will leaf e Nevada thirty minutes after 
the execution, giving jDlenty of time for all to get to the train. 
Tickets sold for this train will not be good on any other but the 
** Bazoo" News Train, this day only. 

THE BAZOO! 

Is a Daily and Weekly newspai^er published at 

SEDALIA, MO., 

For the Peoi^le now on Earth. 

Teums. 

Daily, per Annum . • $10.00 

Sunday, " 2.50 

Weekly, ** 1.00 

E^^ Subscriptions will be received on the Train by a So- 
licitor. ,^3 

The '* Sedalia Morning Bazoo" of Dec. 29 will contain a 
picture of FOX, who is to be executed, with a full history of 
bis crime, his ti'ial, and the last words of the dying man on the 
gallows. 

Secure a copy of the news agent on the train, or of your 
news-dealer, for Five Cents. 

" And here is the free pass (printed on a mourning 
card) which accompanied the announcement that was 
sent to Mr. Field in his journaHstic capacity : — 





THE BAZOO NEWS TRAIN, 


!^r^ 


On the occasion of the 


^^ 


Public Execution of Bill Fox. 




Pass Miss Eugenia Field, 


^H 


Acc't of Boss Bog, 


'U 


To Nevada and Return, 


^^, 


Dec. 28, 1883. 




J. West Goodwin. 



**BY THE way:' 455 

"Bill Fox, I understood, was a noted criminal, and 
everybody was glad to have him hanged out of the 
way." 



XI. 

"It is a lesson in the evolution of towns, these 
incidents of the pushing out of the frontiers of a gi-eat 
country," said Irving. '' I dare say Denver began its 
career as a mining-camp." 

"It did ; and only a few years ago." 

" And now they tell me it is a beautiful and well- 
ordered city, with the finest opera-house in all 
America." 

" That is so ; and one day you ought to play 
there." 

" I hope I may ; I would like it very much. By the 
way, your bill about ^ The Bazoo ' excursion reminds 
me of two curious placards which the manager of Hav- 
erly's gave me. They tell the story of the fate of a 
new play that was once produced at his theatre. It 
was called ^ Hix's Fix,' and was a terrible failure. The 
theatre had been engaged for a short season for ' Hix's 
Fix,' and the proprietors of it were at their wits' ends 
to know what to do. They were not prepared to play 
any other piece ; so they hit upon the expedient of 
* pushing the failure.' They printed half a million 
handbills, and circulated them diligently. This is one 
of them ; it reads as follows ; — 



456 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

HAVERLY'S.TIIEATRE. 

In obedience to the Unanimous Opinion of the Daily Press 

Mestayer & Barton 

Seriously think of Changing the name of their Play, 

HIX'S FIX, TO PvOT. 

In sober truth, this is about the right thing 

1^ BUT ,^3 

It is the funniest rot you have ever seen, and stands pre- 
eminent and alone the 

Worst Play of the Age. 

Opinions of the Press: 
riix's Fix is bad enough, but think of the poor audience. - 
News. 

All that is not idiotic is vile. — Tribune. 



The piece is sheer nonsense, to speak mildly. — Times. 

The most painful dramatic infliction we have suifered this 
season. — Evening News. 



everybody's judgment wanted. 



TURN OUT and JOIN the MOURNERS. 



Every Night tliis Week and Wednesday and Saturday 
Matinees. 



"Under the influence of this extraordinary announce- 
ment, the business improved, stimulated by which 
cheering result the managers issued a new proclamation, 
to this effect ; — 



*'BY TEE way:' 457 

HAVE ELY'S THEATRE. 

Every Night this Week and usual Matin6es. 

HIX'S FIX 

Is unquestionably the worst Play ever produced. 

It is so much worse that no one should miss it ! 

THIS IS CONFIDENTIAL (?) 

To illustrate how good people will sometimes go wrong, read 
the list of talent engaged in jDlaying this vile trash. 

William A. Mestayer, 

The heaviest of heavy Tragedians. 

Rob't E. Graham, 

Unequalled in Character Imj)ersonations. 

Harry Bloodgood, Fred. Turner, Chas. A. Stedman, 

H. A. Cripps. 

Miss Kate Foley, 

As bright as a suabeam, 

Sophie Hummell, Helen Lowell, Lisle Riddell, with 

James Barton, as Manager. 

Here you have the novelty of a veiy Good Company in an 

unpardonably Bad Play. 

AND THEY KNOW IT! 

You must admire their Candor, if you will condemn the Play. 

" Many curious people were drawn to the theatre in 
this way ; but the attraction of failure only lasted a few 
nights. The invitation to turn out and join the 
mourners strikes one as funny. *It helped them to pay 
expenses,' said the manager ; * but it is the most novel 
effort to "turn diseases to commodities," as Falstaff says, 
ihat ever came under my notice.*" 



458 IMFBJSSSIONS OF AMERICA. 



XII. * 

"And now," continued Irving, "to go back to your 
opening, where we rather discount Raymond's stories 
of the wild life of Texas. Have you seen the ' Herald's' 
latest sensation ? " 

'^J^o." 

" K"ot the Texan tragedy ? " 

«J^o." 

** Here it is, then; listen to the heads of it: *Two 
Crime-stained Ruffians die with their Boots on — Pistol 
Shots in a Theatre — Killed in Self-defence by Men 
whose Lives they sought — The Heroes of many 
Murders ! ' " 

He handed me the paper, saying, " Read that ! And 
yet we chaffed poor Raymond I " 

I read a " special telegram " to the " Herald " (and 
verified the report at a later day by the records of other 
journals, local, and of the " Empire city ") , reporting that 
on the 11th of March, between ten and twelve at night, 
San Antonio, Texas, was "thrown into a state of wild 
excitement, by the report that Ben Thompson and King 
Fisher had been shot and killed at the Vaudeville 
Theatre. An immense crowd thronged around the 
doors of the theatre, but were denied admission by the 
officers who had taken possession of the building. 

" It seems that Ben Thompson, who is noted through- 
out Texas as one of the most reckless and desperate 
characters in the State, and King Fisher, who also had 
the reputation of a desperado, arrived at San Antonio to- 
gether, from Austin, by the International train. After 



"i?r THE way:' 459 

enjoying the performance at Turner Hall for a time, 
they left before the curtain fell, and went to the Vaude- 
ville Theatre, in company with another person. As 
soon as it became known that Thompson was in the 
city the police were on the alert, expecting trouble. 
Fisher and Thompson entered the Vaudeville, and, 
after taking a drink at the bar, went upstairs and took 
seats. They engaged in a brief conversation with 
Simms, one of the proprietors, and the whole party 
took drinks and cigars together. Thompson and 
Fisher then rose, and, in company with Simms and 
Coy, a special policeman at the theatre, started down- 
stairs. 

" The party was joined by Joe Foster, another of 
the Vaudeville proprietors, and an excited and heated 
conversation followed, during which Thompson called 
Foster a liar, a thief, and other vile names. Firing 
then commenced, and some ten or twelve shots were 
heard in rapid succession. Police Captain Shardein and 
another officer rushed upstairs, to find Ben Thompson 
and King Fisher weltering in their blood in the corner 
of a room near the door leading downstairs. Joe 
Foster was badly wounded in the leg, and Officer Coy 
slightly grazed on the shin. 

" A scene of the wildest confusion ensued as soon as 
the shooting commenced. All who were in the theatre 
knew of the presence of Thompson and Fisher, and 
were well acquainted with their desperate character. 
When the first shot was fired the whole crowd seemed 
to be panic-stricken. The dress circle was quickly 
cleared, the occupants jumping into the parquet below 



4G0 IMPEESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

and through the side- windows into the street. No one 
seems to know who fired the first shot, or how many- 
were enGfaiied in the shootino^. Before the theatre 
was fairly cleared of its occupants fifteen hundred per- 
sons on the outside were clamoring at the closed doors 
for admittance, which was resolutely denied by the 
police, who had taken possession of the building. 
Subsequently the dead bodies of Thompson and Fisher 
AYcre removed to the City Jail, where they were washed 
and laid out. 

" Bill Thompson, the brother of Ben, was at the 
White Elephant at the time of the shooting, waiting 
for Ben to return from Turner Hall. He rushed out 
as soon as he saw that there was some trouble ; but, as 
he was unarmed, he was stopped at the entrance to the 
Vaudeville by Captain Shardien, and kept outside the 
building. 

" An immense crowd followed the remains of the two 
desperadoes when they were carried to the jail, and 
this morning the plaza around the building was 
thronged. 

" From the statements of those connected with the 
theatre the killing was unavoidable, as it seemed to be 
understood when Thompson entered the house that his 
purpose was to raise a disturbance ; but whether King 
Fisher shared in this design is not known. 

" A coroner's jury was summoned at once. They 
viewed the bodies, and the inquest was held the next 
morning. After hearing the testimony of eye-wit- 
nesses and others a verdict was returned to the effect 
that Ben Thompson and J. King Fisher came to their 



"5r THE way:' 4G1 

deaths by means of pistol-bullets fired from weapons 
in the hands of W. Simms, Joseph C. Foster, and 
Jacob Coy ; and, further, that the killing was justifi- 
able, being done in self-defence. Coy, the special 
policeman on duty at the theatre, testified that Thomp- 
son drew his weapon first ; but it was seized by witness, 
who held it in his grasp during the affray. Thomp- 
son, however, fired four shots, one of which took 
effect in Foster's leg. 

" Foster's leg has been amputated, and there are no 
hopes of his recovery." 

The newspaper man gives *' Thompson's antece- 
dents " and "Fisher's record," as follows : — 



Ben Thompson was born in Knottingley, a town in Yorkshire, 
England, in 1844. His father was a sea-captain. Ben leaves 
a wife and two children in Austin, — a bright boy of fourteen 
years and a girl of eleven. He has a brother here, who took 
charge of his body, and carried it to Austin to-day. Thomp- 
son's record is a bloody one. He is said to have slain proba- 
bly twenty men. His last victim was Jack Harris, proprietor 
of the Vaudeville, whom he shot in June, 1882, in the same 
house in wliich he himself was slain last night. His death is 
little regretted here. 

King Fisher was a young man of some twenty-eight years, 
and his record was, if possible, more bloody than Thompson's. 
For years he was feared as a frontier desperado, and killed 
Mexicans almost for pastime. Of late he had reformed a 
little, and when killed was deputy sheriff of Walde county. 
Both men were strikingly handsome, and noted as quick dead- 
shots with six-shooters, or Winchesters. Fisher's remains 
were shipped home to-night. 

The reporter adds : " The city is now quiet, though 



4G2 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

the death of two such notorious desperadoes is still a 
topic of conversation." 

"Thompson was an Englishman, you see," remarked 
Irving, " which verifies to some extent what I have often 
been told, that England has to answer for a full share 
of the ruffianly element of the States. The mining 
regions of California at one time were crowded with 
English adventurers. What a vast country it is that 
encircles in its territories every climate, — tropical heat 
and arctic cold ! To-day, wdiile we are ice-bound, a 
journey of two or three days would take us to Florida 
and orange-groves, and a day's travel from the heart of 
a highly civilized city, of refined cultivation and well- 
ordered society, would carry us into a region where 
men live in primitive state, so far as the law is con- 
cerned, and yet are the pioneers of a great empire. 
What a story, the history of America, when somebody 
tells it from its picturesque and romantic side ! " 



END OF THE JOURNEY. 463 



XXII. 

*'THE LONGEST JOURNEY COMES TO AN END." 

"Our Closing Month in New York" — Lent— At Rehearsal — Finishing 
Touches — Behind the Scenes at the Lyceum and the Star — The Stoiy 
of the Production of " Much Ado " in New York — Sceneiy and Prop- 
erties on the Tour — Tone — Surprises for Agents in Advance — Inter- 
esting Technicalities — An Incident of the Mounting of " Much Ado" 
— The Tomb Scene — A Great Achievement — The End. 

I. 

"It is almost like getting home again," said Irving, 
" to find one's self in New York once more. The first 
place one stops at in a new country always impresses 
the imagination and lives in the memory. I should 
say that is so with pioneers ; and more particularly 
when your first resting-place has been pleasant. Let 
us get Monday night well over, and we may look for 
something like a little leisure during our closing month 
in New York. We shall produce ' Much Ado ' as 
completely as it is possible for us to do it, outside of 
our own theatre. If no hitch occurs I think we will 
run it for two. Falser even proposes three, weeks. 
If we have been complimented upon our scenic and 
stage-managerial work on the other pieces, what may we 
expect for ^ Much Ado ' ? Lent is severely kept in 
New York, I am told ; Holy Week being among the 
churches, if not a fast in regard to food, a fast from 
amusements. We must therefore be content, I sup- 



464 IMPBESSI0N8 OF AMEBIOA. 

pose, to let ^Much Ado ' grow, in time for the restora- 
tion of social pleasures at Easter." ^ 

On Monday, at a quarter to eleven, Irving was at his 
post, on the stage of the Star Theatre, for a complete 
rehearsal. Scenery, properties, lighting, grouping of 
supernumeraries, the entire business of the piece, was 
o^one throu2:h. Not a detail was overlooked, not a set 
but was viewed as completely from the stalls as from 
the stage. 

"Pardon me," says Irving to Claudio ; "if you get 
your hand above your head in that position, you will 
never get it down again. Suppose you adopt this idea, 
eh ? What do you think ? " 

" Certainly, it is better," says Claudio. 

Irving, as he speaks, illustrates his own view of the 
scene. 



1 " Much Ado " did " grow," and was played for three weeks, a " mixed 
bill " closing the last six nights. The receipts during Lent were unprece- 
dentedly large in the history of TSTew York theatres. These pages go to press 
before the financial returns are completely made up ; but it is known to-day 
(April 25), that the receipts for the entire tour will be more than $400,000. 
The social hospitalities in honor of Irving and Miss Terry, which character- 
ized their first visit to New York, were continued on then- return. Among the 
notable breakfasts of the time was one given to Ii-ving by Edwin Booth, at 
Delmonico's, on April 14. The "Times," in chronicling it, says: "Mr. 
Booth sat at the head of the table, with Mr. Irving on his right, and Chief- 
Justice Charles P. Daly on his left. John McCullough knocked elbows 
with Parke Godwin. The other guests included Jervis McEntee, Launt 
Thompson, Charles E. Carryl, Richard Henry Stoddard, William Bispham, 
Eastman Johnson, W^ilham "Winter, Bram Stoker, Lawrence Ilutton, 
Prank P. Millett, Junius Henri Browne, II. J. Loveday, and E. C. Bene- 
dict. No speeches were made, but in the course of an informal chat Mr. 
Ii-ving was asked about * Hamlet.' He said that he hardly thought it policy 
to produce the play for three or four nights at the end of a season, and on 
the eve of his departure, particularly as he contemplated so speedy a re- 
turn." 



END OF THE JOUBNEY. 465 

"Then we will try it again." 

The scene is repeated. 

"Yes, very good, that will do." 

The rehearsal goes on. 

"No, no," says Irving, "there must be no wait ; the 
second procession must come on promptly at the cue. 
Try it again. And hold your halberd like this, my boy ; 
not as if you were afraid of it. There, that's it." 

The supernumerary accepts his lesson ; the music cue 
is repeated ; the halberdiers file in ; the military strains 
cease, the organ peals out, the wedding procession 
comes on. 

" Bow, bow, — don't nod," says Irving, stepping for- 
ward to instruct a subordinate in the scene ; " that's 
better — go on." 

The solemn voice of Mead opens the scene, and as it 
proceeds, Irving calls Loveday aside. 

"Too much light at the back there, eh?" 

"Do you think so?" says Loveday. "Lower the 
light there, — the blue medium." 

Steps have been placed as a way from the stage to 
the stalls. Irving ("Charlie" following at his heels) 
goes into the third row, Loveday watching and wait- 
ing. 

"Yes, that will do," says Irving, at the same time 
turning to me to remark, "do you see what a difference 
that makes ? You have no difficulty now in imagining 
the distance the subdued light suggests, — chapels, ves- 
tries, dim cathedral vistas. Do you notice what a last 
touch of reality to the scene the hurried entrance of the 
pages give ? — they break up the measured solemnity of 



466 IMPBESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

the processions with a different step, a lighter manner, 
the carelessness of youth ; they have no censers to 
carry, no ecclesiastical robes to wear." 

As he is speaking he strides up the steps and upon 
the stage once more. 

"Mr. Ball ! Call Mr. Ball, please." 

The musical director appears. 

" The basses are too loud ; they spoil the closing 
movement, which is too quick altogether. Come into 
the stalls and hear it." 

"Howson ! " says Ball, "please give them the time." 

Ball goes into the stalls. The movement is repeated 
and repeated again, the last time entu^ely to Irving's 
satisfaction. 

In these passing notes I merely desire to give the 
reader a hint at the kind of work which was done at re- 
hearsal on the Monday of the production of " Much Ado." 
It lasted until a quarter-past five. Irving was there until 
the end. Out of sight of the audience he had done 
enough work to entitle him to a night's rest ; but, so 
far as the critics and the public were concerned, his 
labors were only just beginning. Shortly after seven 
he was on the stage again, and when the play began 
he was never more heartily engaged in his role as 
actor. 

"Yes, I am rather tired," he said, in his quiet way, 
when I spoke to him at the wing ; " feel inclined to 
sit down, — hard work, standing about all day, — but 
this is the reward." 

He pointed to the setting of the garden scene, which 
was progressing quite smoothly. 



END OF THE JOUBNEY. 467 

" If we pull through with the cathedral set all right, 
one will not mind being a little tired." 

I waited to see the work done, and, though I am 
familiar with the business behind the scenes, I was glad 
to escape from the " rush and tumble " of it on this occa- 
sion. At the Lyceum every man knows the piece, or 
flat, for the position of which he is responsible. He 
goes about his work silently, and in list slippers ; he 
fetches and carries without hurry ; nothing seems more 
simple ; you see the scene grow into completeness, 
silently but surely. At the Star, on this first night, it 
was, to all appearance, chaos. Wings were slid about ; 
curtains unrolled ; tapestries hauled up by unseen 
strings ; great pillars were pushed here and there ; im- 
ages of saints were launched into space from the flies, 
to be checked by ropes, just as you might think they 
were coming to grief; a massive altar-piece was being 
railed in, while a painted canopy was hoisted over it ; a 
company of musicians were led out of the way of falling 
scenes to join a chorus party of ladies and gentlemen, 
who were gradually losing themselves among a pictu- 
resque crowd of halberdiers. Everybody seemed to be 
in everybody's way ; it looked like a general scramble. 
Irving, with "Less noise, my boys — less noise !" con- 
tinually on his lips, moved about among the throng; 
and as Ball, who had made a third and last effort to find 
a prominent position from which to conduct his band, 
stepped upon a bench, which was instantly drawn from 
under him by the stage hands who had it in charge, I 
went to the front of the house. Ball's musicians struck 
up their impressive strains of the " Gloria," and the 



468 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

curtain slowly rose upon the cathedral at Messina, as 
if it had been there all the time, only waiting the 
prompter's signal. Pandemonium behind the curtain 
had given place to Paradise in front. It was a triumph 
of willing hands under intelligent and earnest direction. 



II. 

Next day, when the success of the night had been 
duly chronicled in the press, ^ I suggested to Irving that 
we should place on record some account of the manner 
in which the Lyceum scenery, dresses, and properties 
had been dealt with on the tour ; to what extent the 
equipment with which he had set out had been used ; 
and, as a concluding chapter, that we should tell the 
story of the production of " Much Ado " in New York. 
After a considtation with Loveday, and the verification 
of some necessary statistics, Irving exhausted the 

1 The excitement of that cheerful October eveninor, last year, when Hemy 
Irving made his first appearance in New York, was repeated last night, at 
the Star Theatre, where ** Much Ado About Nothing" was presented, and 
where Mr. Irving and Miss Terry effected their reentrance, and wei'e 
welcomed by a great and brilliant company, with acclamations, witli floral 
tributes, and in a charmingly manifest spirit of the heartiest admiration 
and good-wUl. The scene, indeed, was one of unusual brightness, kindli- 
ness, and enjoyment, both before the curtain and upon the stage. The 
applause, upon the entrance of Beatrice, — a rare vision of imperial 3'et 
gentle beauty ! — broke forth impetuously and continued long ; and, upon 
the subsequent entrance of Benedick, it rose into a storm of gladness 
and welcome. — Tribune. — The performance at the Star Theatre last 
evening was one of remarkable interest. " Much Ado About Nothing " 
was produced, and Mr. Irving and his company furnished a dramatic 
representation moi-e complete and artistic, and in every way more admira- 
ble, than any that has been seen upon our stage. The audience was large 
and brilliant, and the reappearance of Mr. Irving and Miss Ellen Terry was 
greeted with every demonstration of pleasure. — Sun. 



END OF THE JOURNEY. 469 

subject in a very pleasant and instructive chat, the 
points of which are not too technical to mislead the 
general reader, while they are sufficiently technical to 
be of special interest to actors and managers. 

"After the Philadelphia engagement," said Irving, 
"I discussed the question of scenery with Loveday, and 
we found that it was impossible to carry or to use many 
of our largest set-pieces. Even if we could have 
carried them conveniently we would not have got them 
into many of the theatres. Loveday, therefore, packed 
a mass of it up and sent it back to New York. What 
we had left was enormous in its bulk, filling two 
62-feet cars, and one huge gondola-car, which was 
made to carry all the flat scenery. We took on with 
us, however, all the cloths for our entire repertoire, 
and many of the small practical set-pieces. We car- 
ried every property of the entire repertoire, — the 
bedstead of 'The Belle's Stratagem,' the altar of 'Much 
Ado,' the horse of 'The Bells,' down to Cattermole's 
picture of Letitia Hardy, some Chippendale furniture 
of the period, and other minor things, that are char- 
acteristic or useful decoration in the furnishing of 
interiors and exteriors. All our dresses were included, 
— principals and supers. Loveday tells me they filled 
one hundred and twenty great baskets, the properties 
being packed in thirty baskets, making a total of one 
hundred and fifty. 

"We took everything to Boston and Philadelphia. 
It was at the latter city that, as I say, we decided to 
modify our arrangements. We sent back to New 
York twenty-seven cloths, eighty flats, sixty wings. 



470 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 

ninety set pieces, and twelve framed cloths ; so that we 
had to adapt our requirements to the local situation. 

"As regards such of our scenery as is painted in 
tone, you know that one of the most remarkable we 
have is the frescoed interior of the hall of justice in 
'The Merchant of Venice,' — a complete reproduction 
of the period. I had the portraits of the Doges 
painted by Wliite and Cattermole. I think it is one of 
the most superb pictures ever seen upon the stage. I 
understand that some people thought it worn, mistaking 
the tone for dirt. Here and there, I think we found the 
tapestries, which we used instead of the frescoes, more 
acceptable. 

"Some of the scenes in 'Hamlet,' 'The Bells,' and 
' Much Ado,' we had specially reproduced ahead of 
us. Indeed, the companies following us will find por- 
tions of the cathedral of Messina around the walls of 
many an American theatre ; and in every house where 
we have played, travelling stage-managers, asking for 
a cottaGfc scene, will find a reminiscence of ' The Lvons 
Mail' in the inn at Lieursaint. We have left one in 
each town. As they are fac-similes, they will, I 
should think, bewilder some of the agents in advance. 

" As to our full Lyceum scenery, and what may be 
called the administration of it, we achieved our greatest 
triumph this week, presenting 'Much Ado' as nearly 
like the Lyceum production as the space at our disposal 
would permit. Our stage at home, including the scene 
dock, which we always use, is seventy feet long, meas- 
uring from the foot-lights ; the Star stage is fifty feet. 
We took possession of the theatre on Sunday morning, 



END OF TEE JOURNEY. 471 

March 30, the stage having been occupied until Satur- 
day night. A small army of men, besides our own, 
aided by the heads of departments in Mr. Wallack's 
employment, began work, under Loveday's direction, 
at seven o'clock A.M., and by four o'clock on Monday 
morning every scene had been set, lighted, and re- 
hearsed three times over. At four they adjourned, 
and came on again to meet me at a quarter to eleven, 
when we had a full rehearsal of scenery, properties, 
lighting, and of the entire company. I was impressed 
and delighted with the earnestness of everybody em- 
ployed in the work, Wallack's people showing as 
great a desire as our own to do their best to achieve 
the success we were all striving for. This is very 
gratifying; and it has been our experience, wherever 
we have reappeared, that the employes have thoroughly 
entered into our work, and shown something like pride 
in being associated with us. Our experience was not 
as pleasant at first. Here and there they thought our 
labors affected, and considered that we gave them 
unnecessary trouble. In one or two instances they 
put great and serious difficulties in our way. When, 
however, they saw the results of our labors they 
became more amenable to orders ; and when we re- 
turned to Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia, and now to 
i^ew York, there was no trouble too great for them to 
undertake for us. I thank all these good fellows 
heartily." 



472 IMPRESSIONS OF AMERICA. 



III.- 

"But to return to * Much Ado,' " I said ; " let us go 
a little into detail as to the number of scenes, cloths, 
flats, properties, and changes there are in the work. To 
have got through the piece, without a hitch, within 
three hours on the first night, is a very remarkable 
performance." 

"Well, then, there are five acts in the play, thirteen 
scenes. Every scene is a set, except two, and they are 
front cloths ; there is not a carpenter's scene proper 
in the entire representation. To begin with, there is 
the opening scene, — the bay, with Leonatas' palace, 
built out twenty-four feet high, — a solid-looking piece, 
that has all the appearance of real masonry. I am 
giving you these details now from a cold, practical 
stage-manager's point of view, — fact without color. 
Well, this scene — the outside of Leonatas' house — 
has to be closed in, in two minutes and a half, discover- 
ing the inside, — the ball-room, which extends right 
round the walls of the theatre. This finishes the first 
act. 

"Now, the second act was rung up in eight minutes, 
showing Craven's beautiful garden scene, — terraces, 
glades, and arbors, — in which set the business of the 
entire act occurs. 

"The next act opens in front of Craven's cloth, — the 
terrace, wliich changes to the morning view of the gar- 
den, which, in its turn, is covered with the cedar cloth ; 
thus accounting for three scenes. After the last one, 
in two minutes the change was made to the effective 



END OF THE JOURNEY. 473 

representation of the town at night ; the riverside street ; 
the quay with its boats moored ; the houses on the 
other side of the river ilkiminatcd, Leonatas' palace 
among them. This closes the second act. 

"Our great anxiety, as you know, centred in the 
cathedral set. We calculated that a wait of ei^^htccn 
to twenty minutes would be required to send the cur- 
tain up on that, no doubt, very remarkable scene. It 
was rung up in fifteen minutes, displaying Telbin's 
masterpiece, — the cathedral at Messina, with its real, 
built-out, round pillars, thirty feet high; its canopied 
roof of crimson plush, from which hung the golden 
lamps universally used in Italian cathedrals ; its painted 
canopy overhanging the altar ; its great iron-work 
gates (fac-similes of the originals) ; its altar, with vases 
of flowers and flaming candles, rising to a height of 
eighteen feet ; its stained-glass windows and statues 
of saints ; its carved stalls, and all the other details 
that are now almost as well known in New York as in 
London. What a fine, impressive effect is the entrance 
of the vergers ! " 

"Yes, you were telling me once, when we were 
interrupted, how you came to introduce this body of 
men into the scene ; it might be worth while to men- 
tion the incident along with these practical details of 
the working of the piece." 

" It came about in this wise. I went into Quaritch's 
bookstore one day, and among other curious books I 
picked up an old, black-letter volume. It was a work 
on ' Ceremonies,' with four large illustrations. I went 
into the shop to spend four or five pounds ; I spent 



474 IMPBESSIONS OF AMEBICA. 

eighty-four or five, and carried off the black-letter book 
on ^ Ceremonies,' — all Italian. I was at the time pre- 
paring ' Much Ado ' for the Lyceum. In the picture 
of a wedding ceremony I saw what struck me at once 
as a wonderful effect, and of the period too, — the 
Shakespeare period. The effect was a mass of verg- 
ers, or javelin men, — officers of the church, I should 
imagine. They were dressed in long robes, and each 
carried a halberd. I pressed these men at once into the 
service of Shakespeare and his cathedral scene at Mes- 
sina, and got that impressive effect of their entrance 
and the background of sombre color they formed for 
the dresses of the bridal party. And it is right too, — 
that's the best of it. Not long ago I was at Seville, 
and saw a church ceremony there, where the various 
parties came on in something like the fashion of our 
people on the stage ; but we . never did anything 
so fine in that way as the entrances of the visitors at 
the Capulets in ' Romeo and Juliet.' Do you remember 
the different companies of maskers, with their separate 
retainers and torch-bearers ? But I see you are about 
to suggest that we get back to the stage of the Star 
Theatre ; and so we will. 

" The last act of ' Much Ado ' was rung up in seven 
minutes, disclosing the scene where Dogberry holds his 
court ; this is withdrawn upon the garden scene. Then 
we come to the tomb of Hero, never before presented, 
except by us, I believe, since Shakespeare's own time. 
This scene, with its processions of monks, vergers, and 
mourners, and the few lines that are spoken, gives us 
four minutes to make a remarkable change, back to the 



END OF THE JOURNEY. 475 

ball-room in Leonatas' house, where the story is con- 
cluded. As you say, to have moved all this scenery, 
and represented the piece with its many characters, 
smoothly and without a blemish, in the various pictures, 
— and when you think what trifling mistakes will upset 
the effect of the finest scenes, — to have done all this 
within three hours is a great achievement. The theatre 
was handed over to us on Sunday morning ; on Mon- 
day night at a quarter-past eight the curtain rose on 
'Much Ado,' mounted and set with our Lyceum 
effects, — scenery, properties, company, — and fell at 
twelve minutes past eleven." 



"And the longest journey comes to an end," said 
Irving. 



FINIS. 




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